The Thief and The Fox
by Suriana
Summary: An up and coming new thief in the City, called the Fox, is causing Garrett nothing but grief. Who is this mysterious thief and why does he covet Garrett's gold? Occurs between the Metal Age and Deadly Shadows.
1. Enter the Fox

Garrett gently turned the lock pick and he heard the door lock spring open. He quickly glanced around to be sure there were no guards patrolling in the immediate area. Slowly he eased the door open and slipped inside the vault.

'_All too easy._' He thought as he closed the door gently behind him and strolled to the chests lined up along the opposite wall Garrett reached for the nearest one and was surprised to find it unlocked. He lifted the heavy lid and peered inside.

'_Empty._' That would explain why it wasn't locked. He moved to the second chest.

'_Unlocked and empty!_' He grunted in frustration, dropping the heavy lid back into place. Quickly he checked the remaining boxes but there were no riches in this vault. Garrett scrutinized the bare room, easily locating the secret compartment where his main prize was rumoured to be kept. An ancient golden crown, beautifully crafted inlaid jewels, exquisite by all accounts and Lord Dullforth's most cherished treasure.

He located the trigger that opened the compartment and glared in disbelief at the gaping, empty space that opened before him.

'_Someone has beaten me here_.' The thought had barely entered his head when he heard the shrill of the intruder alarm. He slithered to the door to get out to a better hiding place, but the door would not budge. Garret cursed when he looked at the lock. It was a deadlock; it required a key to open it on both sides of the door. He cursed again, it was such an amateur mistake and he couldn't believe he had made it.

Garrett pressed his ear to the door; he could distinctly hear guards running toward the vault. There was no time to pick the lock so he pressed himself into the dark corner behind the door. He could hear the keys rattling as the guards reached the vault door and he pressed himself even harder against the stone, becoming as still as a rock himself. The door swung open and the guards rushed in, not seeing him in the shadow, hidden by the door. Garrett thrust his foot out and caught the door with his booted toe.

"It's all gone!" One of them exclaimed as Garrett brushed behind them and out the door.

"Lord Dullforth will have our heads for sure."

"I heard that the last time this happened he fed the duty officers to…" The door clanged shut as Garrett scurried down the long hallway, moving from shadow to shadow like a ghost. He swept along silently, every sense alert as he tried to avoid the enraged guards.

As he slinked down to the ground floor he heard more guards running and shouting.

"The garden! Thief in the garden!" A trio of guards came clattering past his hiding place as they raced toward the garden. With all the guards hurrying to that location Garret knew he would easily make it to the main courtyard and out to the City streets. He hurried in the opposite direction of the guards that had just passed him and he came to halt on the edge of the courtyard. Two guards still kept their post at the front gates, their swords drawn and ready. Carefully and quietly Garret crept into the courtyard, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. He looked up to the courtyard wall, to gauge how far he had left to travel and he saw a shadow inching up and over the wall. It was the other thief! The one that had beaten him to the vault. No doubt he had left a decoy of some kind in the garden to pull the guards there so that he could escape over the wall, just as Garret had meant to do.

He sprinted the last few metres to the wall, the sudden noise startling the guards. He was safely up and over it as the guards reached the shadows he had been hiding in.

"Guess it was nothing." Garret heard the guards mutter as he hurried down the street in pursuit of the other thief. Garret wanted to know desperately who this new competition was, and if at all possible, to steal the loot from them. He resented going through all the trouble and danger of breaking into an estate, only to leave empty handed.

Garret diligently followed his quarry through the twisting streets of the City, frequently having to jump into a dark alley, or crook of a wall to avoid the patrols of the City Watch. Even more so to avoid being seen by the other thief. His prey would turn swiftly and unexpectedly at times to see if he was being followed. Garret didn't seriously consider that the thief knew he was there, he was simply being careful, it's the sort of thing Garret would have done if he had just lifted one of the most expensive artefacts in the City.

The thief approached a well-lit intersection and had no choice but to pass into the bright light, giving Garrett his first real look at his target. There was not much for him to see, a dark cloak hanging on a short, lean figure. A typical thief build, wiry and fast, not bulky and built for fighting. Garret was about to continue his pursuit when he heard footsteps approach from behind. He froze against the doorway he was hiding in as a Captain of the City Watch approached the intersection. A two-man patrol happened to come from the right of the intersection and the Captain stopped them.

"Bruno, Wilton." The Captain greeted them with a nod. "Keep your eyes open men, some taffin' thief just cleaned out the Dullforth mansion."

"Filthy taffers." Grumbled Bruno.

"I thought the Sheriff said he had some great plan to exterminate all those rodents and their kind." The Captain merely shrugged, being unable to speak against his commanding officer. "That's not your concern right now, just be on the lookout." The Captain left the two watchmen behind as he continued on his patrol. As soon as the Captain was out of sight Bruno pulled a  
bottle of stout from under his tunic and passed it to his companion.

"So who do you think it was this time?"

"Who else?" Wilton spat out a half-swallowed mouthful of ale. "Dullforth had decent security, and most thieves aren't bold enough for that kind of work. Has to be Garret, has to be." Wilton passed the bottle back as he spoke, wiping at his chin with his sleeve. "What I wouldn't do to get my hands on that scum."

"I don't know… Word on the street is there's a new thief around. They call him the Fox and they say there isn't a vault he can't break in to." Bruno lowered his voice as though he feared to speak and Garret strained to hear what was being said. "They say that his mother was a witch and that she consorted with the Trickster." He looked around anxiously as though just speaking the name of the Woodsie Lord would call unnatural horrors upon them. "They say he was born of that union, he's got no mortal father, and he can just vanish into thin air. They say…"

"You daft taffer! You shouldn't listen to anything 'they say', bunch of drunkards and liars pulling your leg. There's no Fox and if there were he's just a man, like any other." Wilton swept past Garret and his counterpart hurried to keep up with him. "Take my word for it, it's Garret, no-one else could be…" Their voices faded into the distance and Garret scurried through the lit intersection, the other thief would likely be long gone by now, he doubted he'd have a chance to catch up.

He hurried down the winding streets, searching for any sign of the thief, but there was no sign of him. The trail was gone. Garrett decided that with the Watch now on high alert the smartest thing for him to do would be to return to his safe house. He slipped through the shadows making his way past the Rois-Dores estate. The guards looked edgy as they manned the imposing front gate, they had clearly head about the break-in at the Dullforth Mansion. Garrett looked at the estate longingly, so far he had not dared to set foot inside those grounds. Unlike most wealthy pompous types, Lord Rois-Dores, despite being renowned for his greed, understood that in order to protect and maintain his wealth he had to invest money in top of the range security to guard his belongings.

Perhaps when the furore over tonight's break-in died down he would consider taking on the challenge of entering the Estate. Then every man, woman and child would know that he, Garrett, was the only true Master Thief of the City.


	2. Take the High Road

_I made it back to my safe house without great difficulty, still brooding over the loss of the crown. All night long I could hear the Watch Dogs stomping through the streets, pulling in for questioning anyone unlucky enough to be caught outside. The blue coats were clutching at straws, when it came to investigative work they were hopelessly inadequate. But that made my sleep much more easy._

_I needed to go speak with my fence; I had a suspicion that he had hired someone else to steal the crown for a smaller cut. It was just too much of a coincidence for another thief to be there the same night as me. The next evening the City was still under lockdown so I decided to take the Thief's Highway and maybe "acquire" a few valuables along the way. After all, if I went to my fence empty-handed, I'd never get any information out of him_

He swiftly slinked across the roof, placing his feet as surely as though he had walked this path a thousand times before. He paused at the attic window and carefully slid his blade beneath the frame, prying the window open. Like a shadow he slipped through into the darkness, his eyes adjusting easily to the gloom. Downstairs he could hear the sleeping inhabitants and he crept down to take their precious belongings from right under their noses. The master of the house, clearly nervous since the infamous Dullforth theft, held his gold in his arms as he slept. Garrett smirked as he gently pried the bags from his grasp and left the fool snoring loudly. Just as quickly and quietly he was back onto the roof and in the open night air, leaving not a trace of his visit, apart from the missing gold. That was the key to being a great thief, in and out without anyone noticing. Not like this thief last night that had had the whole manor in uproar, the guards running around in a mad frenzy and the City Watch on alert.

He paused on the edge of a roof to be sure there was no one nearby, and leapt the gap to the next building. Again he froze, to be sure he had alerted no one with the sudden noise. A few streets away he could hear the casual footfalls of the patrols, but they sounded steady and even. They were not rushing to investigate the sudden staccato of his boots hitting the tiled roof. As his keen eyes scanned the dark streets a flash of movement caught his eye. Across the laneway a figure was slowly easing out through a very small window. The figure grasped the gutter as he pulled his legs free from the tiny breach, dangling in the air momentarily before hauling himself up onto the roof.

Garret melded into the nearby shadows as he watched the thief slither across the roof like a dark cloud, preparing to leap to the next building. It wasn't the first time he had seen another thief roaming the Highway at night. But it was the first time he'd recognised them. The build, posture, sinuous movements and the clothes were imprinted in his mind from the previous evening. He felt a slow rage begin to churn inside him. He wanted to rush over there, catch the thief, find out who they were and seek compensation for last night. He wanted to know if his fence had undercut him. Only the street below separated them but the thief was quickly leaping ahead of Garret, passing from one roof to another with ease, searching for the next easy target. Garret hurried to catch up with him, trying to keep parallel as he searched for a safe was to get across the street. There was an archway a few buildings ahead and he hurried so that he could be across it just in time to catch the other thief from behind.

In his haste Garret momentarily disregarded his feet. His boot slid upon a pair of loose tiles and he threw himself backward onto the roof to avoid crashing down to the street along with them. The tiles breaking on the pavement rang like thunder through the night air. Both Garrett and the mysterious thief pressed themselves flat, melting into the shadows. Garrett's heart pounded as he lay in wait, would the other thief move again soon, would he suspect that Garrett was there?

Garrett was prepared to wait out the other thief, let him make the first move but the sound of a rapidly approaching patrol alarmed him.

"I heard something crash, this way!" Three watchmen came rushing down the street to investigate the sudden noise.

"It's just some old tiles." One of them noted, crushing the remains under his boot.

"Something must have knocked them down." The most alert of them all, he had already drawn his sword as he scanned the roof. Garret lay as prone and flat as he could muster. With luck they would give up and leave.

"Probably just an animal." Without warning the third watchman suddenly threw his torch onto the roof. Garret reacted immediately, scurrying to the far side and leaping to the building behind. But they still caught a glimpse of him.

"Thief! Thief on the roof!" They howled, one of them running for reinforcements as the other two hurried to try and keep up with him. All over the block lights began to flicker in windows as residents were awakened by the alarm of the Watch. But Garret had already left them far behind. They simply could not keep up with him as they hurried through the winding streets. As he reached the end of the block, he dove into the canal; from here he could be safely swept to the other side of the city. It might have been cold, but it was dark and the Watch would never think to search for him there.

Garrett grit his teeth and swam with the current. When he had travelled far enough he grasped an access ladder and hauled himself out of the frigid water. A quick survey of his person proved that all his equipment was still with him. He squeezed the water out of his clothes and cursed. This rival thief was turning out to be nothing but trouble for him.


	3. The Gilded Fence

_Shivering and water-logged, like a half drowned rat, I made my way from the canals toward my fence's shop. Tupper was a sly old dog and I had always been wary around him, but I would never expect him to betray our professional partnership. Tupper had been around a long time, and he'd survived a lot. He'd only managed this by being smart and understanding that between a fence and a thief, there had to be a certain level of trust and honour. Only so much honour though._

_I knew he'd never seek to rat on me, but if his life was seriously in danger he'd give me up in a heartbeat. I could accept that, I'd do the same to him. But to hire another thief to do my job cheaper, that would be unforgivable._

Garrett strolled down Pionty Street as a cold wind whipped past, chilling him to the core. He grumbled inwardly but took it in his stride. Discomfort was all part of the job and he'd had worse days. What was a little chill compared to hordes of the undead?

Tupper ran a legitimate business on top of his less savoury trade. The ideal business, he was a goldsmith. The wealthy and powerful of the city would bring their lovely baubles in for him to fix, or requisition a piece of ornate gold or silver. Tupper would fulfil his contract, get his modest fee and then send his burglars in to filch the item back. Lord Dullforth had brought his new acquisition to Tupper for restoration and Tupper had wasted no time in putting Garrett on the job.

Garrett had to admit he admired the old fox in many ways. That he could set himself up as a reputable tradesman right under the noses of the City Watch and to just sit back and wait for the poor rich fools to parade their goods before him. Tupper could keep a catalogue of everything they had and wait until he found another buyer, or with his skills, refashion stolen gold into a new treasure, only to steal it back again.

Tupper had always been successful, but now that he and Garrett had formed a partnership, the profits came pouring in. It was a deal that was too good to be true, and that's why Garrett suspected it could not last. Sooner or later, all good things come to an end.

Garrett stood across the street and looked to the stylish shop sign, 'George M. Tupperson – Goldsmith'. There were no lights on in the shop, except one candle burning in the window, highlighting the opening hours and services. With a quick scan of the street to be sure no one was nearby, Garrett scurried across and down the narrow passage between the buildings. He gently rapped at the back door and saw the shade move as Tupper examined his visitor. Moments later he could hear the bolts pulled back and the door swung inwards to welcome him. The heavy door was closed and bolted behind him; as soon as the last lock was secure Tupper sprang on him.

"Here he is, the man of the hour!" Tupper's grizzled face cracked open into the widest grin Garrett had ever seen the man manage. "Did you bring it with you, come on let me see it, I've missed the rare beauty." Garrett felt a heavy lump grow in the pit of his stomach. Tupper truly believed he had the crown and that meant he hadn't hired someone else to steal it. His only lead for finding the crown was gone. He looked around Tupper's cosy workroom, a place he had hoped to find answers. He could find nothing now but Tupper's little projects and hoard of stolen goods.

"I don't have it." Garrett slumped into the solid chair behind him. Tupper was too animated to sit; he paced around the room like an excited puppy. Tupper made a sound of disappointment but it was clear he misunderstood Garrett's meaning.

"Yes your right I suppose, it'd be too hot to carry at the moment. You've got the blue coats worked into such a frenzy." Tupper brought his index fingers to his chin, a sly look on his face. "My little eyes and ears tell me they've been turning over every known fence in the city. Pulling in everything thief and rat they know, grilling them for hours on end, beating them, torturing them." Tupper shrugged as Garrett sniffed and wriggled out of his wet cloak. "You look like you've had an interesting evening. But I suppose the excitement is never ending for the Cities most notorious thief." Tupper guffawed and Garrett couldn't take anymore.

"No Tupper. I mean, I don't have it, at all. Someone beat me to it." Garrett's eyes blazed from under his hood at the indignation of being beaten.

"You don't… beaten?" Tupper sank slowly into his chair. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I was there, I was at the mansion, I broke into the safe room and it was already gone. I must have been five minutes behind the other thief."

"I tried to follow them, but with all the Watch on alert, I couldn't keep the trail." A sudden thought occurred to Garrett, something he had not considered before. He had thought the other thief sloppy to raise the alarm, to let everyone know he was there, but perhaps it was a clever ploy. If the thief had known he was there, that he was tailing him, would it not have been to his advantage, to make it impossible for Garrett to follow. Perhaps to even allow the Watch to have captured Garrett instead. Even without the crown, no-one would have believed he hadn't stolen it, they'd just think he'd stashed it somewhere, and would have gladly tortured him to death in an attempt to gain a confession.

Was it possible, or was he giving this thief too much credit?

"If it wasn't you, then who? Who else could have known about it?" Tupper knit his bushy brows.

"That's exactly what I was wondering…" Garrett softly insinuated. Tupper's expression darkened, he was a sharp one.

"Don't you look at me like that Garrett. I was in this business long before you were stealing copper buttons you whelp! I didn't stay alive and wealthy by being a fool." Garrett held up his hands in a sign of placation. "You're my top thief, and I wouldn't give this job to anyone but you. Nor would I ever cheat you. You make me more money than I ever dreamed possible, I wouldn't throw that away."

"I know Tupper, but it's in my nature to trust no-one. Besides it was all too coincidental, the timing, the article. If it had been a servant I could have overlooked the oddness of them stealing it the same night as me. But it was a thief, a professional, I think."

"You think?" Tupper couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well they broke into the place without incident, and left no trace, up until the point where they tried to leave. And I'm not even sure now if they alerted the guards by mistake, or as a clever ploy." They sat in silence for a moment as Tupper pondered what Garrett had told him. At length Tupper returned to the work he had set aside when Garrett arrived.

"I guess the rumours were true after all." Tupper murmured softly and Garret, caught in his own thoughts paid the comment no mind. Garrett observed him working and shook his head slightly. Tupper was strange indeed, he loved gold and silver beyond they're monetary value. Sometimes he had to hold onto items Garrett brought him because he would refuse to break them down, to destroy what he saw as art. He would wait until he found a buyer willing to take the item whole. He suspected his train of thought would outrage Tupper, but it had to be considered.

"People may be coming to you in the next few weeks, wanting you to price individual jewels and such. You would recognise better than anyone the jewels from the crown I'm sure." As he had suspected, Tupper gasped in horror at the idea of the priceless treasure, being torn asunder, the gold melted, the jewels sold off individually.

"Your right I know, but it would be such a terrible waste. People don't understand that the value of such an object as a whole, outweighs the individual value of the materials it is made of." He continued to fiddle with the gold chain in front of him. Garrett paused to consider his words. This was something he and Tupper would never agree on. "The Blue Coats have been asking people the same thing, even me. And of course, being the respectable business man I am," He winked wickedly at Garrett, "I told them if anything like that came my way, I'd let them know immediately." He set aside his tools and rubbed at his eyes.

"Well if anyone does show up, let me know who they are and where I can find them." Garrett clenched his fists around his armrests. "I will have this thief found." Tupper chuckled again.

"Not afraid of a little competition are you Garrett?

"It never hurts to have the facts." He replied tersely.

"Oh yes, yes." Tupper mumbled mockingly. "But when it comes to the Fox, facts are very few."

"The Fox! I've had enough of this phantom thief."

"The populace however can't get enough. People want excitement, they want mystery. I'm sorry Garrett, but you're old news."

"I couldn't care less what the populace thinks, but with all this talk of supernatural thieves, people will be keeping their valuables safer."

"I thought you enjoyed a challenge."

"I didn't come here to be laughed at." Garrett growled. "Here." He tossed a purse full of his loot to Tupper. "This is what I managed to scrounge before… well, it's a long story." Tupper opened the purse and inspected the items without comment.

"Now when all this furore over the crown dies down, I have a mark I'd like us to work on."

"Oh? And who?" Tupper's curiosity was piqued.

"Rois-Dores." Garrett bore Tupper's great peals of laughter with quiet dignity.

"Your serious?" Tupper gasped at length as he wiped tears away from his eyes. He studied Garrett's determined expression with awe. Slowly a wicked smirk spread across his lips. "Oh Garrett, I _knew_ you loved being a celebrity!"


	4. Benji the Fox?

_Once Tupper knew I was serious about the Rois-Dores heist he set his mind immediately to the task. He would be able to ask subtle questions in the right places to get an inside view of the place. The best I would be able to manage was maybe a map of the building and some hearsay about how tough the guards are. Not a lot of good to me, if I didn't know how many there were at any one time or what their patrols are like. All I knew was they were heavily armed and well trained. But nothing is infallible, every piece of armour has its weak point and Tupper would find it for me._

Garrett gathered his still damp cloak about him and moved for the door. "Let me know what you find, especially about that crown." He grimaced as he stepped out into the cold darkness, the heavy door clunking shut behind him, the locks sliding back into place. As he turned the corner into the alley a young man bumped into him, his head colliding with Garrett's chest. The boy grunted as he stumbled back, as surprised as Garrett was to meet anyone in this alleyway. He rubbed at his forehead, clutching a bundle tightly to his chest with his other hand. He looked up at Garrett and his eyes nearly popped out with disbelief.

"Are you..? G-Garrett?" He gasped with awe. Garrett moved faster than the boy could anticipate, grasping his shoulders and pinning him roughly against the wall. The air rushed out of the boy as Garrett slammed him mercilessly against the stones.

"Do I know you _boy_?" His smooth voice became a blood-chilling growl.

"N-n-no sir! I'm just here to see my Uncle George. I.. I overheard you talking to him one night when I was here. I just assumed."

"You don't know me, you never saw me, and I don't know your uncle George. If I ever hear words to the contrary from anyone, we will meet again." A dagger appeared in Garrett's hand and the boy bit at his lower lip in fear as it was pressed menacingly below one of his eyes. "But it won't be pleasant for you."

"I understand, I'm sorry." He squeezed his eyes shut; it was all he could do to take his gaze off that glinting blade. Garrett pushed himself away from the boy and watched him scurry around the corner to knock hastily on the back door.

"Benji! What are you doing here?" Garrett listened to Tupper hurrying his nephew inside, the door slamming shut again. He slid his dagger back into its sheath and turned toward the street. He paused as he looked to the bright lamps burning along the road, something did not feel right to him.

_**'I overheard you talking to him one night.'**_

In this business Garrett had learned, never ignore your gut instincts. Silently he made his way back to Tupper's door and pressed his ear against the rough wood. He could just barely make out the muffled conversation between Tupper and the boy.

"…would be hysterical, what do you think you're doing?" Tupper sounded genuinely upset and concerned. He'd just discovered Tupper's weakness… family.

"Nah, Ma's ok Uncle George, I make sure she's well asleep."

"You know she wouldn't like it. I don't like it! From the look of you I know you've been up to something devious." Scared out of his wits more like, Garrett thought with a wry chuckle. He was unable to make sense of Benji's reply, but it seemed to incense Tupper.

"You don't understand. I promised your father! I promised him that I'd make sure you'd have a good life, a clean life. A chance for something better than what he got. Or does the idea of rotting in Cragscleft sound good to you? Do you want to follow in his footsteps so badly?"

"If it's so important then why don't you go clean Uncle? You've got a legitimate business, so why do you keep dealing with criminals?"

"Once you get your hands dirty boy there's no way to clean up. Always the lure of that one last, big job. Always watching your back, staying ahead of the Law. Staying ahead of the _competition_. The minute people hear that I'd gone straight; they'd do me in. Afraid that I'd turn rat, become a good citizen and set the Watch Dogs on them." Garrett heard a chair sliding over the floorboards as Tupper finally calmed down enough to sit. "Old friends you know too much about can be just as dangerous as old enemies. Once this life grabs hold of you, there's no going back." Tupper pleaded with his young nephew. "That's what I want you to understand, before it's too late. You think its fun now, you think its all a game, but too late you'll realise that you've trapped yourself forever."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. But I didn't really do anything so bad."

'Finally!' Garrett thought, 'We're getting somewhere interesting.'

"I just knew how much you wanted it and…" The silence in the room that followed seemed to last forever and Garrett knew it wasn't just the door blocking his hearing.

"Benji, where…?" Tupper sounded completely astonished. "_How_ did you get this?"

"I didn't steal it! I swear I didn't."

"He'll murder me, he'll murder us all! Benji, what have you done?"

"It wasn't me. It was kind of… I found it."

"You **found** it? You were walking along the street and just happened to find a _priceless_, antique crown lying in the centre of the road!"

Garrett's head snapped away from the door as though it had burnt him.

'_The crown?_' He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was it possible that boy could have stolen it, even though he claimed it wasn't him? At least it was clear that Tupper had not known, he couldn't blame the fence for anything more than a leak of information. The boy must have heard them talking, had heard all the details, how to get in, what the security was like. But even so, without Garrett's skill and experience, it was impossible that he could have stolen the crown. Garrett heard the locks on the door snapping open and had just enough time to scurry behind the woodpile.

"You get straight home, you understand? And don't mention this to anyone!"

"Yes Uncle." The boy replied meekly as the door slammed closed in his face. Benji's shoulders slumped, as he stood alone in the dark, upset by how his uncle had taken his gift. Petulantly he shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled down the alleyway, kicking a loose pebble as he made his way out onto the silent street. Benji looked both ways out of instinct, and there was no one in sight. He hunched his shoulders against the cold breeze that stirred through the street. An early morning mist was beginning to gather and Benji plunged through it, unaware that a silent black shadow loomed on his tail.


	5. The Trickster's Tavern

_Tupper had the crown, just like we planned. Only I wasn't the one that got it for him. Somehow young Benji had gained possession of it. I watched him closely as I followed him and I knew he couldn't have stolen it. Never was there a more unlikely candidate to be the Fox. Benji lacked the poise and confidence I had observed in my opponent. He was no master thief.__ He led me to the Trickster's Tavern and I winced as I looked to the signpost, marked with that damned third eye. I wanted answers though so I followed him inside. Why should I fear the Woodsy Lord? I killed him after all._

The air within the seedy bar was choked with smoke and the dim radiance of the torches struggled to filter down through the haze. The sleazy patrons barked noisily at one another, as Garrett scanned the place for Benji.

"Benji! We've been waiting for ya." The young man joined his companions at the rickety table nearest to the bar. Garrett eased himself into a dark corner nearby, unconcerned by the grime on the walls and furniture around him. It seemed Benji hung around with a young gang of pickpockets; Tupper would be outraged at the idea, thought Garrett. He studied each of the young people, wondering if among them there was one with the potential to be the Fox. Was it possible for someone so young? Garrett considered that he had not been so old when he started his career, but then Keepers had trained him. There was a time when he was no better than Benji and his friends, some of them looked to be in pretty bad shape, especially the younger ones. The general rule was, if you could live past 15, you might actually stand a chance. Only the strong could survive in the City's mean streets.

None of Benji's male friends seemed to fit the bill, they were all loud and ungainly, just like Benji. They'd do all right in a crowd of people at the bustling markets, but there was none of the finesse needed for a break-in. And his female friends looked like they spent more time in prostitution than theft. Except for one, her face was horribly disfigured and she was armed to the teeth. But she looked far too heavy to be the Fox; she was one big square heap of muscle and was presently engaged in an arm wrestle with one of the boys. It was no surprise to Garrett that she won, and the loser found himself buying the next round of drinks. Garrett approached the bar himself and ordered a drink before returning to his corner. He had no real thirst, but anyone that sits in a bar for too long without a drink draws attention. He regretted that this had been the only vacant table from which he could observe Benji, for his view of the front door was completely blocked by a wooden support.

He looked to the other patrons of the establishment and it seemed to be quite an assortment. On one end were Benji and his friends and other nefarious looking types, while closer to the door there were groups of average citizens and even off-duty private security and lesser members of the City Watch. He supposed they needed to relax after work too, and the Trickster was not so reputed a haven for criminals as the likes of the Crippled Burrick. Hence it was not really his kind of place and he felt himself unconsciously pulling his hood lower as the off-duty blue coats passed him on their way to the bar.

From the way Benji was drinking it seemed clear he planned to be here for the rest of the night. Garrett wondered whether he should stay in case the Fox showed up. That was the only possibility left, the Fox had to be an acquaintance of Benji's. Garrett didn't know how or why the Fox would be associating with a rabble of pickpockets. He could only imagine that the Fox was looking for a fence, and through Benji could reach Tupper. In which case this thief was more of a threat to Garrett than he had first thought. If Tupper had to make a choice about which thief to hire, surely he would pick the Fox, with an agreement not to use his nephew as an errand boy anymore. It all made sense now. Benji would have passed the information he overheard about the crown heist to the Fox, allowing him to beat Garrett to it. His hand tightened around his mug of ale. The Fox would make an appearance, he just knew it, and all he had to do was wait.

"I can call my Tavern whatever I like to Hammerite. It's been in my family for five generations, it's always been the Trickster and it always will be!" Garrett looked to the bar to see the Tavern Keep arguing with a small group of Hammerites.

Garrett scoffed at the shabby sight of them. '_Hammers, they never know when to quit.'_ The leader of group's face had turned as red and his robes; there was a time when no one had dared to speak back at them.

"Your establishment is a profanity. Such sacrilege! You use the crafts of the Builder. Stone and wood, hammer and nail. Then defile it with images of the Pagan Gods!" He gestured with his great hammer toward the patrons that were watching with interest. "A haven to evil-doers. Thieves and panderers!" He hissed with disgust Garrett shook his head in disbelief. The world had passed them by yet still they clung to their old beliefs. He almost felt sorry for them. He started out of his chair when he realized that Benji was no longer sitting with his friends.

'_Garrett you fool!_' He mentally kicked himself as he scanned the place, scrutinizing every face until his eyes at last rest on the front door. The boy had managed to just casually stroll out of the tavern while he had been distracted for only a moment. He couldn't believe it.

"Beeenji!" Garrett's head whipped around to the table of pickpocket's. One of the girl's was calling out to him; she was quite drunk and hung her arm around a friend's neck for support. "Come and introduce your mysterious friend to me. I don't bite." The coquette smiled suggestively. Garrett followed her line of sight and found Benji, partially hidden in the shadows beneath the stairwell to the second level. He did not look overly impressed by her behavior. He turned on her, back to the shadows and Garrett saw a hand reach out and drop a bulging purse into Benji's palm. Benji immediately secured the purse among his garments.

'_It's him_!' Garrett was certain and he slowly eased his way out of the shadows and toward the stairwell. Taking an indirect route he tried to remain inconspicuous.

"You've got no authority here, go back to your droning sermons and leave us in peace." The Tavern Keep seemed to be losing patience with the Hammers.

"No authority? There is no authority higher than the will of the Builder!" The Hammers started to close menacingly around the bar. "My brother's and I shall school you heretic!" The lead Hammer tried to strike the Keep and missed, a club seemed to spring into the Keep's hand and with a sickening crunch he struck the Hammer in the face. Pandemonium broke out around Garrett as patrons and the off-duty Watch and guardsmen sprang toward the bar to subdue the hated Hammers. Garrett found himself fighting against the sudden surge of bodies. There were as many people trying to clear themselves from the fray, as there were those eager to throw themselves into a good fight. He managed to break free of the press of bodies and looked to the stairwell to see the Fox bounding upward to the second level. At the top of the stairs he turned to look down and for the briefest moment torchlight lit part of his face. Garrett caught the glimmer of an amused grin and a sharp eye, obscured by strands of dark hair, fixed directly upon him with a devious twinkle.

'_So,'_ He thought, _'you **have** been toying with me.'_

He raced toward the stairs as the Fox turned and disappeared from his sight. Benji saw Garrett and turned white as he whimpered in fear, cowering back into the shadows. Garrett paid him no mind and leapt up the stairs twice as fast as the Fox, hurrying toward the balcony. When he reached it he could already hear the Fox clambering up the roof. Without breaking his stride he leapt onto the nearest table, twisting to catch hold of the gutter, hauling himself after the elusive thief. The Fox made all haste across the roof, the wind catching at his light cloak, whipping it behind him like a set of wings as he fled. Garrett's legs were longer and he had no fear he would catch him this time. He watched as the Fox approached the edge of the roof, he could see the Fox's whole body tense up as he prepared to jump.

With seeming ease the smaller thief whipped over the deadly drop to land sure-footedly on the opposite roof, not even breaking pace as he sped off without a glance behind him. Garrett was merely a second after and the sound of him landing seemed to renew the Fox's efforts. He suddenly broke off to the left and Garrett found it strange since it made it far easier for him to cut his quarry off. He was closing in on the Fox, right on his heels when he noticed the huge gap before them to the next building. The man had to be insane; there was no way he could make the jump. It wasn't humanly possible. Not only that but the building was a decaying wreck, looking as though a fire had gutted it. Even if he made the jump the burnt structure would surely crumble beneath him. Garrett kept after him, sure that the thief was just trying to frighten him into backing off, testing which of them had more will power.

Unexpectedly the Fox threw his right arm up and a grappling hook flung outwards, trailing a long rope behind it. With pinpoint accuracy the hook thudded onto a wooden roof beam, the metal hook sinking into the soft wood and holding fast.

"Not again!" Garrett hissed as he skidded to a halt before he went tumbling over the edge of the roof, his hand just barely brushing at the cloak of the Fox as he went soaring toward the old ruin. The thief landed lightly upon a lower support beam, slowly easing his full weight onto it as he tested its strength. He turned his hooded face toward Garrett and with a snap of his wrist the grappling hook recoiled back beneath his sleeve. Garrett stood upon the roof ledge regaining his breath in great pants as he looked down upon his opponent. He clenched his fists helplessly as he watched the thief turn silently and leap from the beam, disappearing into the darkness of the burnt ruin.

'_Next time Fox.'_ His fury pumping through his veins, _'I **will** catch you next time.'_


	6. Tupper's Luck

_In a few hours the sun would rise and I felt drained. It had been a long night so I headed back to my safe house to sleep it off. I realized that I needed to focus on what was important and that was my work. I couldn't be out chasing nuisance thieves when I was trying to plan one of the most dangerous heists in history. Of course, when I go to buy some new equipment from Rodrigo if won't hurt to ask who is in the business of manufacturing those clever little grappling hooks._

"Alright then Hayley, the Goldsmith's shop is just down to your left, Mr. Frederickson." Mr. Ogden the Steward pointed down the road. "I have some other errands to run, and I will come back here and pick you up when I'm finished. You'll be safe here on Pionty Street, but don't go wandering off!" He shook his finger at her sternly and Hayley nodded, her eyes wide with fear. She watched him stroll down the street until he turned a corner and was out of sight. Nervously she turned about and walked in the direction he had pointed until she reached a shop with the sign of a Goldsmith on it.

'**Frederickson's**'. It read and she pushed on the door, only to find it was locked. Hayley noted a small sign in the corner of the window and she bent down to peer at it.

"Due to an unfortunate accident," she read, "this shop with be closed until the 28th of this month. Mr. Frederickson apologizes for any inconvenience." Hayley straightened, tightening her grip on the bundle in her arms. "Now what do I do?" Her teeth worried at her lower lip and she looked up and down the street. People milled about casually, window-shopping, while servants hurried about on various errands. Hayley looked at her feet, "What will I do?" She moaned piteously. She decided to walk a little further down the street; perhaps there would be another goldsmith nearby. Her heart leapt with joy as her eyes eventually fell upon another Goldsmith sign.

'**George M. Tupperson – Goldsmith**'.

"What luck!" She cried as she burst into the shop. The proprietor looked up at her from his work and his eyes nearly popped out of his head when they spied the golden family crest on her trim red and black livery.

"Welcome dear, welcome. What an honor, I've not been graced with the business of the Rois-Dores before." He grinned like a jackal. "How marvelous."

"H-Hello." Hayley replied meekly, overwhelmed by his good cheer.

"Doesn't Mr. Frederickson normally handle your needs?"

"Well yes sir, so I've been told, but apparently he's been injured. But I need to get this silverware cleaned in time for the party."

"Poor Mr. Frederickson." His smile grew even wider. "But a party, that sounds like a real emergency. I'd be all to happy to oblige you." He held out his hands for the bundle she still clutched tightly.

"Thank you so much." Hayley sighed with relief as she gladly handed it over to him.

"Just take a seat here and let me have a look at them." He motioned to a stool near his workbench, as he sat down and unraveled the bundle. Inside was an ornate wooden case and he opened it to reveal the most badly cared for set of silverware he had ever seen. "These are in quite bad shape."

"Yes, from what I heard they hardly ever are used. They belong to the Lady Rois-Dores, it's her party so she insisted that for once they would use _her_ silverware." Tupper did not look up at her and worked hard to maintain an even voice when he spoke.

"It could take me a while, I have a lot of other work already commissioned… When is the party exactly?" Briefly his eyes flickered up to meet hers before he cast them down again at the silverware.

"Oh it's not till next week, on the 13th."

"Ahh..." Tupper made a face as though he seemed to be having difficultly deciding whether he could get them cleaned in time.

"Please can't you do them? Lady Cassandra has no tolerance for people that cannot complete their tasks, especially one so simple as this. She expects they will be cleaned today." Hayley pleaded with him. "Though I suppose she did not know that Mr. Frederickson was injured." She seemed about ready to convince herself that she would be able to return to the Estate and convince her mistress that it was not her fault. Tupper hastily interjected.

"Calm yourself my dear, I will do them just this once as quickly as I might. I would not wish to see you in trouble with the Lady Rois-Dores." Hayley's face brightened immediately.

"Thank you so much, I am only new among the senior staff. I want so hard to do my job well and live up to the expectations and standards of my family. They have been retainers with the Rois-Dores for ten generations. I am so afraid I will mess something up and disgrace my family." She wrung her hands together nervously, unable to sit still on the stool. "You see I've lived at Highfort, the Estate, ever since I was born, but I was kept mostly to the servants quarters and only given minor, unimportant tasks."

"Well don't worry, I will have these so clean and sparkling the Lady Rois-Dores will be astonished and have nothing but praise for you. It shouldn't take me any more than an hour or two."

"Wonderful! Mr. Ogden should be back by then as well. He's our Steward and a very important man." She nodded her head emphatically. "If I had been given this task by Milady Charlotte she would have understood why I couldn't complete it, but Lady Cassandra is so cruel." She put her hand to her mouth and blushed, embarrassed that she had spoken so. There was an awkward pause but since Tupper had not reprimanded her for speaking so forthrightly she decided to continue. She leaned in closer to Tupper and whispered as though she was afraid anyone might overhear her, even though it was clear no-one else was present in the store.

"I think the Lady Rois-Dores is bitter and jealous, because she was so soon usurped by her own daughter. Milady Charlotte is the real head of the household after Lord Vincent."

"Really?" Tupper raised his eyebrows and keenly caught himself up in the conversation as he carefully chipped away at years of grime and tarnish. "But she is only so young, surely her mother would be more capable at managing such things."

Hayley leaned even further over the bench and spoke with a conspiring rasp.

"Well I do not wish to speak badly of my employers, but you see the Lady Rois-Dores is not like her husband and daughter. She used to be a _Bafford_," Hayley's nose upturned slightly as she mentioned that noble name with scorn, "Until she married into the family. They do not speak of her much because I believe they find her somewhat embarrassing. Lady Charlotte commands the servants, and she is more than able." Hayley's eyes were wide with awe as she spoke. "She is very strict, but I find she is also fair and gives credit where it is due. She is a great Lady, so noble and elegant. When she was only sixteen her father entrusted her with the set of master house keys, that's how accomplished she is."

"Master keys? Is that supposed to be something important? What an honor to be able to unlock the pantry door." Tupper maintained a deadpan expression as he scornfully mocked this tidbit.

"Oh but you do not understand, those keys unlock everything! Every door, chest, drawer and cabinet. It means that she alone is responsible for every piece of silverware; if anything goes missing she must take responsibility for it. She must be there to approve every item that is taken, and to make sure it is returned. It means that only she, aside from her father, has access to the great Rois-Dores wealth, kept safe below Highfort in huge vaults!"

"My," Tupper grinned slyly, "what responsibility for so young a Lady."

"Yes, but she bears it all so well. I've known her since I was little; she is not so much older than me. We grew up with Captain Dorleac. We would all play together, until they got too old. It was not fit for them to associate with a mere servant anymore." The idea did not seem to insult Hayley at all; she had been raised among people that accepted they were inferior to nobles. "Milady had to follow a strict routine, to learn her responsibilities as a Lady of Rois-Dores." She stroked the crest on her shoulder with absentminded pride. "And Jan would study under his father, learning to be a great soldier."

"Jan?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I meant Captain Dorleac. I must remember my place; sometimes I am a bit too familiar with him and Milady. It's just we went through so much together. Sometimes it's hard to forget that she used to get just as dirty and caked with mud as Jan and me. You couldn't imagine her doing anything like that now." Hayley let out a little giggle before she turned serious again.

"She almost drowned once. Jan has never forgotten it, I think he always blamed himself and to this day he maintains a careful watch on Milady. So much so that it creates a bit of nasty gossip." Hayley seemed very angered by this fact, that people ought not to gossip about her Mistress, even though she herself was so imprudently sharing so much with a total stranger. "But I think, it was after that when she was really forbidden to play with me anymore."

"How did she almost drown?" He asked automatically, just to keep her talking.

"Well we used to play in this very wild, old part of the garden, people rarely ever went there, and it's so overgrown. But my Lord Vincent never ordered the gardeners to do anything about it." She trailed off to ponder this before she gave herself a little shake and continued with her story. "There was an old well there, so old it had been forgotten and left to disrepair. Jan was chasing us around, belching like a burrick." She giggled again, raising her hand to smooth her braided hair.

"Then Milady Charlotte just disappeared, like the ground had opened up and swallowed her. She was so heavy with all those layers of clothes on, she couldn't keep her head up, but Jan eventually managed to fish her out. He was only a small boy then, not as strong as he is now. She was cold and blue I remember, I was so afraid I was paralyzed, until Jan screamed at me to go and get help." She had turned pale at the memory. "The look on Lord Vincent's face I've never forgotten, I've never seen him run so fast, he even beat James. When I got back Jan had managed to revive her, he had just simply refused to give up."

"They fenced off that part of the garden and I never went near it again. But Lady Charlotte became obsessed with learning how to swim after that, and no one dared to try and stop her." Hayley looked at Tupper and smiled gently, still caught in her sentimental memories. Tupper was grinning fit to burst; he could barely contain his excitement. The biggest gossip on the Rois-Dores Estate seemed to have been dropped right in his lap. He couldn't wait to tell Garrett.

Thinking of Garrett, Tupper suddenly felt very ill and he turned ghostly white, letting the spoon he was polishing drop back into the pile with a great clatter.

"Mr. Tupperson, are you alright?" Hayley had started off her stool, reaching to clutch at his arm.

"Oh yes." He was quick to recover and flashed her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me, I'm just an old man and sometimes I feel a bit faint."

"I'm sorry, perhaps you should take a break from your work." She seemed genuinely concerned for him and Tupper could have almost felt bad for planning to abuse her trust in him.

"No, no, I am determined to have these finished for you as soon as possible. It's the least I can do for such a charming young woman that take's the time to talk to a withered old man, and bring a little light into his life."

Hayley blushed furiously, made speechless by his flattery.

'_Don't overdo it now Tupper, you old dog. Keep her talking_.' He cleared his throat and picked the spoon back up.

"So tell me, do they often have parties at the Estate…?"

"Not very often, this one is a bit… unusual." Tupper inclined his head to indicate that she should continue. "Lord Vincent has been summoned by the Baron, he will be leaving the City in a few days, with General Dorleac and a hundred of his best troops. Lady Cassandra saw it as an opportunity to have some entertainment for herself, but she has been thwarted to some extent by Lord Vincent giving explicit orders that Milady Charlotte is to be obeyed on all matters, and that even Lady Cassandra must comply with her orders."

"Unfortunately she can't be stopped from inviting whomever she wishes. _Her _acquaintances are generally not welcome to Highfort. The only person that's remotely happy about the situation is Jan. For the first time he's been entrusted with the security of the entire Estate. It's a big responsibility and he's eager to make his father proud. I can understand where he's coming from." She blushed again as she laughed at her own fervent attempts to prove herself.

Tupper could not stop smiling, he felt very warm all over as he finished his work cleaning the silverware. As soon as he closed the door behind the naive young servant he locked it and hurried to his private workshop. He grabbed one of his many notebooks and furiously began scrawling in it, he did not wish to forget a single scrap of information. The candles were burning low when he finally set his pen aside, satisfied that he had managed to squeeze every last ounce of the conversation out of his memory. Perhaps with this much data at hand, Garrett would only break one of his legs, rather than strangling him.

Tupper swallowed nervously and wiped at the sweat upon his brow. This was his chance to make it up to Garrett, to gently break the news to him that somehow he had Dullforth's crown in his possession. Now he merely had to wait for Garrett to arrive. Tupper felt in his gut that it would not be long.


	7. Fantastic Filigree

_I think I'll go make Tupper sweat and explain to me why he's got Dullforth's crown. I can't wait to see the look on his face. Beforehand though I'll have to do a bit of amateur work to cover the bills and there is an exhibition that I've been dying to see. Titled "Fabulous Filigree" it's bound to have something worth the taking. There should be minimal low-end guards on a routine patrol; the tricky part is getting the items out of their display cases. I've heard a rumor that the more expensive exhibits have even been trapped with alarms and other surprises. I'll have to be on my toes, but as an appreciator of fine art, it's high time I took in a bit of culture._

Garrett crouched behind the low garden wall as he watched the gallery guard pause outside the rear door.

"I'm gonna complain to the supervisor, that's what." The guard muttered, stamping his feet. "How come I'm always the one stuck out here walking round and round while everyone else gets to sit inside?" He sourly kicked the rough stonewall of the building before he started to continue on his route through the gardens. "It's not fair, not fair, its discrimination is what it is. I'll show them, yeah they won't…" Garrett watched him disappear into the heavy mist, looking around quickly to be sure no one else was in sight before he hurriedly slinked to the small wooden door. His lock picks seemed to spring into his hand as he started working on the simple lock.

The door swung open, a slight groan issuing from the rusty hinges. He closed it slowly behind him, trying to keep the hinges from screeching again. Slowly he made his way down the hall, his feet silent on the scuffed wooden floorboards. No torches had been kept alight in the rear area of the art gallery. This was where all the offices of the gallery staff were and since no one considered anything of value to be kept back here, they had neglected to secure an excellent point of entry for any clever thief.

Garrett reached an intersection and he could see the entry to the exhibition area at the end of the hall. The archway to inside was barred by a wooden portcullis and watched over by a lone guard. He sat beside the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he attempted to stay awake. A single torch fluttered on the other side of the archway, illuminating the area around the guard. Garrett started down the hallway, wondering how he was ever going to sneak past the guard. The torch was so close to him, he'd surely see and hear any water arrow Garret used to put it out. He crouched at the edge of the shadows, mere feet from the guard whose chin would gradually fall down against his chest until the guard caught himself and shook himself awake. Garrett heard footsteps clattering from inside the exhibit as another guard approached. He threw a lever just inside the archway and the portcullis raised up. The original guard pushed himself out of his chair with a hearty groan.

"Hey Dave, still awake?"

"Barely Boris, just barely. Good luck."

The new guard plonked himself down in the chair as the relieved one closed the portcullis behind him. Garrett could hear him whistling as he walked away into the exhibit. Boris seemed the fidgety type and he tapped his foot on the marble floor, inspecting the nails on both hands and cleaning the dirt out from under them. He started humming the same tune Dave had been whistling when he left, but eventually grew tired of it, standing up to stretch. He walked away to the end of the hall, peering out one of the windows and Garrett leapt at the opportunity.  
Quick as he could he knocked out the torch with a water arrow and hurried across the marble as quietly as possible, heading for the opposite end of the hall as Boris.

"Great, lousy torch." Boris moaned as he returned to his seat.

Garrett wondered how he was going to manage to get into the exhibit and he looked to see if he could clamber over the makeshift walls. High up in the vaulted ceiling he could make out wooden beams.

'_Hmmm, perfect_.' He thought as he pulled a rope arrow from his quiver. He aimed for the closest beam and let loose. It hit with a satisfying 'thunk'. Garrett tested the security of it, and finding that it seemed to be holding fast he began his ascent. Halfway up the rope he reached the top of the exhibition barrier. He heaved himself onto the narrow wall and looked down into the room below. It was very well lit, nowhere to hide, and nothing to climb onto. The only structures were the glass display cases for the filigree artwork. The display area was actually contained in a very large hall, the gallery staff had erected these relatively sturdy walls to build atmosphere and split the different artworks up into separate areas. Garrett was able to see over the top of the exhibition to the other barrier walls and down into all the separate "rooms" below. Somewhere in those rooms Dave was still whistling unevenly and Garrett heard a guard in the distance clearing his throat. There was the rustle of someone reading a paper coming from another area near the front of the gallery. So that made four separate guards so far. Seemingly one at each portcullis entry, and one roaming inside.

Garrett pulled another water arrow from his quiver and snuffed out the torch directly below him. He grabbed another rope arrow and fired at the same beam as before, only this time so that the rope would fall inside the exhibit. He leapt from his perch onto the rope arrow, letting it cease swinging before he slowly slid down to the floor. He extinguished the last two torches in this room before he moved to one of the doorways and waited for Dave to return. Garrett couldn't hear him whistling anymore but his footsteps still rang out over the marble, slowly getting closer. The guard brushed past him and Garrett leapt up and struck him from behind with his blackjack.

"Arg!" Dave uttered as he crashed to the ground.

"Hey Dave, you ok?" Boris called from the other side of the portcullis.

Garrett quietly cleared his throat and did his best to imitate the knocked out guard.

"...Yeah."

"Watch your step buddy!" Boris replied before falling silent again.

Garrett rolled his eyes as he filched Dave's money pouch and turned his attention to the glass cabinets. All the ones in this area were fitted with a lock, and he picked them open easily, carefully lifting up he glass cover as he took the items and stashed them in his bag. He moved quietly into the center room of the exhibit, and here he found the most valuable items. His eyes lit up as he looked at the dazzling display, glittering under the torchlight. Just to be safe, he knocked out all the torches before he went to work. He started on the edge of the room, slowly and methodically picking all the locks as he worked his way around. Halfway through them he decided he'd try going for the central display. He crept to the middle of the room and started working on the lock. He had to slide the entire glass cabinet up and place it gently on the floor before he could take the finely wrought gold figurine. As he pulled it from it's pedestal he heard a mechanical click and ducked just in time to avoid the fireball that came shooting toward him from the pedestal. Three other fireballs simultaneously sprang out from the other sides of the stand and they all went smashing into the walls with a great bang. He heard the guards all leap from their seats, alerted to his presence. He could hear one of them running from somewhere near the front of the gallery, and then the clatter of a portcullis opening. Now there were two guards running together.

He quickly shoved the figurine into his bag with the rest of his loot and shot a rope arrow into the beam high above him. He leapt onto the trapped pedestal and jumped up to reach the rope. Garrett hauled himself out of reach just as the guards came running in. He strained to climb all the way up to the ceiling beam, pulling himself over it, looking back down the dizzy height to see all the guards now angrily pointing up to the roof.

Garrett crawled along the beam until he reached the outer wall of the building. He drew his sword and with the butt of it he smashed out one of the windows that were set in the sloping roof. Carefully avoiding any remaining shards of glass he hauled himself out onto the roof. Garrett steadied himself upon the cobbled stones, scurrying to the edge and looking for a route down. He found he could quite easily amble down the side of the building, finding many nooks and crannies among the stones to wedge his fingers and toes into. Halfway down one of the guards came running past and he flattened himself against the wall, his arms beginning to tire from the effort of all this climbing.

"Can you see him anywhere?" He heard one of the other guards calling and the one below him looked around desperately.

"I can't see anything in all this fog!" He wailed in frustration. Garrett smirked wickedly, watching as the guard hurried around the corner of the building to search for him in vain. Garrett hurried down, dropping the last few meters with ease and dashing out into the streets to safety.

One block away he paused to catch his breath in a dark doorway, readjusting his bag and equipment to make sure it was all safe and tight against his body, not bouncing around too much and making sound. Although he was a little disappointed at not making off with all the artwork he still had managed a decent haul. He patted his loot bag with satisfaction as he ventured back out onto the street and in the direction of Tupper's shop.


	8. The Problem With Pagans

_Throughout history we have seen how often humanity falls prey to greed and corruption. Let us not forget that Keepers are only human too._

- Keeper Jameil

'_A Brother in Exile.'_

_Tupper spilled his guts the second I laid eyes on him. I could almost appreciate his honesty if I hadn't been so sickened by the reeking stench of his cowardice. I thought the old man had more spine than that. Lucky for him I knew he hadn't double crossed me and even more so he'd excelled himself in scouting out the Dores job. The fact that he insisted on giving me my promised cut for the crown didn't hurt matters either. With an overflowing coin purse I felt like things were finally starting to go my way. It was time to see Rodrigo and spend some of my incredibly ill-gotten gains. _

"Garrett, my favourite customer!" The swarthy Rodrigo looked ready to leap over the counter and embrace Garrett in a crushing bear-hug. His eyes glinted with greed as he stared down at the brooding thief. "I've got those new gas bombs you ordered. All the way from Blackbrook." Rodrigo rummaged beneath the counter and pulled up a small wooden crate. He pulled out a roll of parchment and waved it in the air for Garrett to see. "Leary sent me a warning with them though; he says he's managed to increase the radius of the vapor, so you have to be more careful not to get caught up in it."

"I've always liked to keep my distance." Garrett replied as he inspected the bombs in the crate. "I'll take five for now."

"Ahh, I know you will love them, which is why I keep them just for you! So you know there will be more here ready when you want them." He fished out the five and placed them on the counter before putting the crate back. "None of my other customers go for this sort of thing; they don't have your finesse Garrett. To them they think it is easier to just cut someone's throat and be done with it."

"Amateurs. It's messy and troublesome." Garrett piled the small bombs in a sack he had tied to his belt. He pulled the right number of gold coins from his pouch and handed them to Rodrigo.

"Yes, but far cheaper." The shopkeeper teased as he juggled the coins in his hand. Garrett shrugged off Rodrigo's words. The conversation followed this route every time Garret saw his outfitter. Rodrigo loved to torment Garrett about the subject that truly was closest to his heart, and Garrett had heard these words a hundred times over.

"What do you know about grappling hooks?" Garrett hastily interjected and began to describe in detail the nature of the grappling hook and how it must be attached to a trigger mechanism. The more he spoke, the more excitement Rodrigo expressed.

"Yes, yes! That sounds like _my_ hook!" His grin cut his face in half, his eyes wide with pride.

"Your hook?" Garrett asked puzzled.

"About two months ago this scruffy young lad comes to me and asks me to make this special hook for him. You would well know that I love making custom equipment, it lets me be creative. But I told him that it would be expensive, more expensive than what a filthy street rat like him could afford." Rodrigo's made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Well this boy looks at me, half red with embarrassment and half with anger. Then he dumps all this coin onto my counter. It was twice what I would have asked for the job." Rodrigo leaned back and scratched at his nose as he pondered. "I don't know where that boy got all that money, but it's not my place to ask questions. I had the hook done within the week as he asked. He picks it up and says that if it isn't satisfactory he would bring it back. Which made me think someone else was going to be using it, but then why did they not come and buy it themselves?" He shrugged his shoulders at the mystery.

"Did he come back at all?"

"No. So I guess I did a good job, eh?" Rodrigo's smile returned, unable to hide his pleasure at a job well done.

"Interesting." Garrett mused. "Thanks for the info." He dropped another gold coin on the counter as he swept out of the store.

"Anytime Garrett, anytime! Anything for my favourite thief!" Rodrigo shouted after Garrett as scooped up the extra coin.

'_So now I know,'_ Thought Garrett to himself as he wandered the streets of the City, _'that Benji has been working for the Fox for at least two months. But why Benji?'_

Apart from the obvious link to his fence uncle, Garrett could not see that Benji had many other attributes desirable in a partner in crime. He found himself once again approaching the Trickster's Tavern, he knew Benji would be there with his inept friends. Garrett strolled into the tavern; it looked very much the same as the last evening he had been here. A few chairs had been replaced after the scuffle with the Hammers, but all the same patrons were clumped around the rickety tables, their long faces drooping into their drinks. A large hand suddenly took hold of Garrett's shirt and a scarred thug thrust his nose into Garret's face.

"You again sneak!" He spat, his face turning red. "I run the gangs around here you, this is _my_ turf!" He pushed Garrett roughly away and thumped his own chest with his hands. "Brock's turf y'hear?"

Garrett slowly smoothed his clothes back into place. He tried hard to fight a smirk, but it was a bit of a guilty pleasure to know that his reputation was such, that even this dim-wit was scared Garrett would try and make a move onto his territory.

"Really?" He drawled at last, his eyes not leaving Brock's. "I thought it was Draygin's turf." He spoke calmly and eventually Brock could no longer meet his gaze, turning white at the mention of the City Warden's name.

"Yeah well I work under his authority." He eventually stammered, regaining some of his bravado. "You want to mess with me; you have to deal with Draygin too." The tables nearest to them fell silent as the patrons turned to watch the drama unfold and Garrett's sinister chuckle filled the expectant air.

"The Warden's wont touch me after what happened to Ramirez, remember?" Though it pleased him to humiliate Brock and shoot down his empty threats, it was in Garrett's interest to have free reign in the tavern without Brock looking over his shoulder all night. "I'm not interested in your turf Brock, I'm just having a drink." Brock eyed him suspiciously, but seemed mollified. "Besides I can do better than the _spare change_ you get around here." Garrett chuckled cruelly as he left Brock attempting to muster a witty comeback.

The buzz of chatter steadily rose to normal as Garrett waltzed right past the bar toward Benji's usual corner table. Benji and his friends seemed oblivious to the recent dispute and Garrett came up directly behind the boy, clapping his hand down on Benji's shoulder. The young boy yelped in surprise and tried to squirm out of Garrett's grasp.

"We need to talk." Garrett whispered menacingly in the boy's ear and Benji froze. Garrett had to half drag him to his feet and pull him out of earshot of his friends. He cornered the boy under the same dark stairwell he had seen Benji meet the Fox last time.

"Been running many errands for your boss lately Benji?" Garrett kept his voice low but let his anger vent into it, he wanted Benji to feel his rage, he wanted him terrified. "Crowns? Grappling hooks? What else has he got you up to?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Benji whined and Garrett shook his head unconvinced. The boy was on the verge of tears, even a fool could tell he was lying.

"I'm sure he pays you well. Well enough to secure your loyalty… to a point. How much would it take for you to tell me who he is?" Garrett turned his tone from fury to persuasion, but he would never have made it as a con-artist.

"I don't know. I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a rat!" Benji was looking around the tavern nervously, unconsciously biting the back of his hand. Garrett was growing impatient and he grabbed Benji roughly with both hands and slammed him against the wall.

"Look _boy_," Garrett ground his words out through his bared teeth, "in respect to your uncle I offered you a lucrative alternative. But my patience with you is wearing thin. Don't think I won't force the truth out of you. I've already spoken to your uncle, and he agrees with me that physical punishment might be just the thing you need to learn that dodgy business is a bad idea." Benji's eyes widened with lucidity as he realized he now had no protection from his uncle.

"I don't know who he is." He cracked under the pressure, "I've never seen his face, just… just heard his voice..." To Garrett it seemed there was something Benji was hiding still, but his fear seemed to have doubled from just speaking of his master.

"How does he contact you, where do you meet?" Garrett's fingers dug into Benji's flesh and the boy winced.

"We meet here, always here. If he wants something he finds me. I can never contact him. That's been our arrangement from the start." Garrett was sure he was definitely hiding something now, some bit of information that he was consciously omitting. But what Garrett had garnered so far was good enough for now.

"Why you Benji?" Garrett wondered out loud, easing his grip in the boy. "Out of all the incompetent scum here, why you?"

"I don't know!" Benji sniffled, pushing Garrett away from him, finding some untapped source of grit Garrett hadn't expected. He smirked inwardly; perhaps there was more to Benji after all. "Cant you just leave me alone?"

"No, you and your "friend" have already interfered in my affairs once before, I want to make it clear that it is not to happen again." Garrett spoke with deadly earnest and Benji quivered from the chill in his voice.

"Y-yes sir. But I don't know how, what do I tell him?"

"Don't worry Benji, I'll tell him myself." Benji stared blankly at Garrett. "When he comes here to find you, errand boy." The boy turned white at the thought. Garrett wondered who he was more afraid of, himself or his mysterious employer.

A sudden weight came tumbling onto Garrett's back, knocking him into Benji. They fell to the scuffed wooden floor in a mess of flailing limbs. Garrett managed to clear himself but not before he scored a few accidental kicks to his ribs. He glared at the boy that had just ambushed them. He was laughing and holding Benji in a headlock.

"Be's it your round Benji, bring your friendsie!"

"We are not friends." Garrett's face twisted into a look of sour disapproval at the scruffy boy. Another casualty of the never ending war, from his accent he was clearly of farmer stock. So many of them had been driven from their land to try and scratch a living in the city, but they never forgot their pagan roots. "I'll be watching you boy." Garrett growled at Benji as he readjusted his cloak. He fetched himself a drink from the bar and skulked to a table in the corner, watching Benji and his rowdy rabble of friends with a scornful eye.

Clearly he wasn't the only one as he saw Brock make his way to Benji's table to stir up trouble. Garrett shook his head, Benji and his friends were pretty sad, but for that thug to beat on them to make himself feel like a big man, was even more pathetic.

"Benji the brat!" Brock gave Benji a good thump across the shoulders, causing him to choke on his mouthful of ale. Benji doubled over in a fit of coughing and Brock muscled himself onto the bench between Benji and one of his female friends. "Seen you here once or twice before love. Don't seem like you belong with these rats, Miss…?"

"Sylvie." She spoke nervously, unable to look Brock in the eye. She wore a dress that might have once been called elegant, but it was covered now with the grime of the streets, torn and patched in several places. Sylvie's face was painted with the cheap colours of a whore but from her timid posture it was clear she was new to the profession.

"Everyone just calls me Brock. Big Balls Brock that is." Brock grinned lasciviously. "If you don't mind me saying, you look like you could do better than this rabble. How would you like to come and hang with me and my crew?"

"I don't…" Sylvie lost her voice and simply shook her head, her shoulders hunching down as she turned in on herself from fear.

"Come on love." Brock wrapped his meaty hand around the girl's slender arm and she pulled futilely away from him.

"Likesy you be's Broken Balls Brock?" Garrett grunted with surprise at the nerve of Benji's friend. His dark eyes glared daggers at Brock from beneath his tousled mop of brown curls. The dirt smears on his face looking almost like some kind of warpaint, giving him a fearsome look.

"Charlie…" Benji began to warn, but Brock elbowed Benji in the face and he fell back off the bench, clutching at his eye. The rest of the table visibly drew themselves back, holding their breath in fear of what was to come. Charlie calmly took a drink of his ale, watching Brock from the other side of the table as Brock paused, wetting his lips with his thick, ox tongue.

"Watch your mouth toothpick, or I'll snap you in half." He growled as he tugged on Sylvie's arm again trying to stand up with her. Brock was right about the boy; his features were so fine it looked like Brock could crush him without effort. What Brock was too dense to see, but Garrett noticed with his sharp eyes, was the calm self-assurance the boy carried. His frame was slender but wiry; there was strength and speed in his arms, and a look of dangerous intent on his pale, dirt smeared face.

"The lady be's not wanting companies." Fire sparked in his dark eyes and Garrett grinned in anticipation of the inevitable showdown. The boy had such a complete air of dangerous confidence about himself; it was certainly going to be interesting to see if he had the skills to match.

"Time you knew you place pagan scum." He warned as he heaved himself away from the table, lumbering to reach over for the boy. Charlie moved in a flash, leaping over the table and kicking Brock behind his knees. Brock crumbled forward against the bench with a surprised grunt as Charlie elbowed him in the back. A knife appeared from somewhere and he skewered it into the table between Brock's fingers, just barely grazing his flesh. Brock was frozen as Charlie kept a knee firmly planted against his spine.

"Next time I take you fattsie fingers." He spoke with such self-assured cruelty it even sent a chill down Garrett's spine. Charlie pulled away from Brock, keeping his dagger in hand as he let the thug up off the table. Brock's face was nearly purple with rage.

"You don't know who you're messing with." Brock motioned with his hand and several of his crew started to approach them.

"No fighting you bleedin' Taffers!" The barkeep shouted, his nose bandaged and his eye swollen and purple from the fight with the Hammers. Benji and his companion's faces turned from fear to determination. They were suddenly cornered animals, ready to fight fiercely to the death. They gathered into a loose, defensive formation as Charlie and Brock continued their stand off. The atmosphere in the tavern had turned electric as everyone waited eagerly for someone to make the first move.

Finally Brock took a swing at Charlie's head, but the boy moved too fast, dancing around Brock and slashing his dagger against the brutes back. Brock roared as the dagger sliced through his clothes and flesh. The wound was not deadly but it would hurt his pride in particular. A great whoop of enthusiasm erupted from the patrons not involved in the fight. As Brock's men scuffled with Benji's friends other patrons leapt onto their backs, eager for action. Garrett found himself once again caught in the teeming sea of bodies as chaos erupted in the tavern. He wrestled to get himself free of the foray, elbowing his way through the crowd, ducking punches and flying furniture. He was buffeted around, receiving a fair number of bruises before he finally burst out into the street. He scurried to a dark alley as a squad of the City Watch bore down on the tavern. With clubs in hand they battered all the skulls within reach. Garrett didn't hang around to watch them subdue the fighting but instead began making his roundabout way to his safe house.

As he walked Garrett began to readjust his clothes that had been shifted in the skirmish. He then began the meticulous job of checking that all his gear was in its proper place. His merchandise from Rodrigo was secure and safe, as well as his dagger and blackjack. He reached under his tunic to secure his money pouch, just from habit. Garrett froze in his tracks when he realized the space occupied by his pouch was empty. Desperately he searched all over his body, hoping it had merely shifted elsewhere, but he had to resign himself to the fact that it was truly gone. He bit down on his fist to silence a scream of fury. Someone must have swiped it during the furor, but how could he have not even noticed. He was more angry with himself than with the thieving scum that had stolen his pouch. Tonight of all nights, when he was carrying his cut of the Dullforth crown. He trembled with rage, wanting to lash out and tear the street apart, but he maintained his cool restraint.

At length his body went slack as he finally resigned himself to the fact he could not recover his money. Even if he could go back to the tavern, now swarming with the City Watch, how could he ever figure out who took his purse during the fight? Garrett finally groaned with dismal frustration and continued on his way home. It was a setback, nothing more. He had enough cash to get him through the next week; it was just lucky he had this Rois-Dores job lined up in the next few days, if they were as rich as everyone said, he ought to be able to walk out of there with his retirement secure and then some. He shuffled through the streets of the City, paying no mind to the citizens he passed as he mentally berated himself for being so amateur as to let someone lift his purse. At length he reached his safe house and he climbed the stairs to his flat, still silent as he moved even though he felt heavy in spirit.

Garrett pressed his ear to his door, as he always did. It always paid to be careful; you never knew if someone might be lurking in wait for you. It seemed silent in his flat and he turned the key in the lock, letting the door swing slowly open. It was dark inside and he waited to let his eyes adjust to the darkness before he passed the threshold. Everything was silent and still and he closed the door behind him, hearing the lock click closed again. He took his cloak off and hung it on the peg on the wall.

Garrett lived very sparsely, there was no point in gathering numerous belongings when he might have to pick up and move at a moments notice. He passed silently from the living room into his bedroom but paused in the doorway. The window in his room gaped open, the curtains drawn back and the light of the moon invading his sanctuary. His money pouch sat slumped upon the window sill, the leather gleaming dully in the moonlight. Garrett approached it cautiously, keeping himself pressed against the walls and out of the light. His hand snapped out and grabbed the pouch and he quickly backed away from the window, keeping low and watching for any movement outside.

He turned the pouch over in his hands, it was definitely his, but much lighter than when he had seen it last. Garrett's mouth had gone dry and he swallowed nervously. He could hear the soft clink of coins knocking against each other as he handled the purse and curious he undid the drawstrings. He peered into the purse to see it still held a substantial amount of coin but stuck between them was a small note.

As he read the note his stomach began to stir with the unwelcome chill of fear.

_**"Thanks for my cut of the crown. - The Fox."**_

Garrett crumpled the message in his sweaty hand, this game of cat and mouse had just been taken to a new and terrifying level. Worst of all, it looked like he was set to lose.


	9. A Poisoned Dagger

_Finding a new apartment at such short notice wasn't easy, nor is it as safe as I would like but I don't have much choice. Unfortunately, it cost most of my remaining coin. I won't be leaving a single scrap of loot behind when I do the Rois-Dores job tonight._

_According to Tupper, there's an abandoned well in an old part of the Highfort estate. I should be able to reach it through the old section of the sewers, as long as they haven't collapsed. I don't have an adequate map of that section of the sewers, so I'll have to put my compass to good use, but it's the least of my concerns. Getting safely out of Highfort with the goods is the real problem. If even half the rumours I've heard about the Rois-Dores guards are true, this will be one of the toughest heists I've ever pulled._

_The sun is swiftly approaching the horizon and in an hour the party-goers will begin arriving at Highfort. For me it's almost time to start._

Garrett's feet kicked up ancient sewerage as he splashed through the calf deep sludge. He waved the torch through the gloom in front of him, hoping it would burn up the stench in the air. As he approached an intersection Garrett pulled his compass from his pouch and watched the needle settle on north. He looked down the passages that spread out from the intersection, branching out into a great warren of corridors. As long as he managed to keep winding his way in a general north-west direction he ought to reach the well. The flames of his torch danced and crackled in the sudden gust of wind that flowed down the tunnels and he carefully stowed his compass, turning away from the current of air.

The ground beneath him rose in a gentle incline and he trudged ahead, breathing a sigh of relief as the water around his feet grew shallow. Large patches of soft green moss grew upon the walls and the further he went the denser it became. Soon it covered the walls completely and the ground too, encasing Garrett in a claustrophobic burrow of cool green foliage. He placed his feet carefully over the uneven ground, the moss giving way easily beneath his weight. Luminescent fungi had battled their way through the suffocating moss, adding their light to Garrett's torch. At least with all the green the air smelt slightly fresher to Garrett, even if it still carried a hint of rot.

The tunnel seemed to twist and turn for many lengths and without any sign of another intersection; Garrett feared he was drifting off course. If he didn't start heading north-west again soon he would have to double back and try another route. The tunnel continued to slope upwards and Garrett now had to stoop to pass under the low ceiling. He paused to examine the path ahead where the fungi and moss seemed to come to a dead halt, with nothing but gaping black beyond. Garrett extinguished his torch and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Slowly he crept toward the darkness. What he discovered was that the tunnel actually fed into a large chamber and he was perched high on one wall. The odd toadstool protruded from cracks in the walls and lit the chamber sufficiently for his night eyes.

Garrett heard a slow scuttle approaching from one of the large corridors that entered the chamber and he flattened himself against the ground. A gigantic spider ambled into view and Garrett shuddered at the sight of its blank eyes and swollen abdomen. He unslung his bow and notched it with a broad head arrow. The bowstring groaned softly as Garrett aimed at the spider's head. He lined up one of its gleaming black eyes in his sights and let loose. The spider reared back with an inhuman scream as the arrow-tip punched through its eye and into its brain. Eight legs thrashed wildly on the cobble-stones and the great beast lurched sideways like a drunkard before it collapsed to the ground. Garrett watched it carefully as the twitching legs slowly subsided and when the monster was finally silent he leapt down into the chamber.

One of the entrances to the chamber had been closed off by a rockslide so Garrett took the passage opposite the direction the spider had entered, heading south-west. He decided to spare his torch as the toadstools provided ample enough light for him. Somewhere ahead of him he could hear the gentle lapping of water and he quickened his pace. Rats scurried into hiding at the sound of his approach and the sound of running water grew ever stronger. Garrett entered into another small chamber that was strewn with debris and seemed ready to collapse upon him. A stream of water gently flowed beneath the access grate in the centre of the room. Garrett heaved the grate open and jumped back as it broke from its rusted hinges. The grate barely missed his toes as it fell to the stones, the thunderous crash echoing painfully in his ears.

Garrett tried to peer below the ripples of the cool water but could see very little. Without a second thought he took a gulping breath and dove into the water. It was terribly cold, but at least it was clean and Garrett moved against the current, half swimming and half hauling himself along the uneven edges of the stream. Garrett ignored the desperate agony that slowly began to build in his lungs as he continued on. Though the current was not strong it still pulled against his body and he could feel his arms beginning to tire. Ahead he could see what seemed like the barest hint of moonlight spearing into the dark canal. He released what little was left of the air in his lungs as he swam into the light and rushed toward the surface. Garrett broke though into the well, gasping in the cold, dank air.

He was tempted to tread water for a moment to regain the strength in his arms, but he was beginning to shiver in the cold water. Garrett looked up the daunting height of the well and could see the gnarled boughs of ancient trees stretching over it like giant arms. The moonlight streamed down on his face, sneaking through the foliage and Garrett readied a rope arrow. It was not easy trying to keep his body above the surface of the water long enough to fire the arrow, but he managed. Garrett grunted with satisfaction as he heard the arrow burrow deep into the branch of one of the trees. He tested the rope with a quick tug then began to pull himself upward. The rope was wet and he found it difficult to grasp it, but as he rose out of the water he was able to plant his feet against the wall for extra purchase.

'_At least,'_ He thought as he approached the top of the well, _'I won't be coming back this way.'_ But it was a thought that did not comfort him greatly. Garrett began to rock his body from side to side as he cleared the lip of the well. As soon as the rope angled over the well and toward solid ground he released his hold and landed neatly in the waist high undergrowth.

Over the riotous buzz of insects Garrett could hear faint music playing and he muscled his way through the wild, unkempt plants that tangled around each other. Twigs and thorns snagged on his clothes and he had to use his sword to slash his way through some of the more compact plants. An ancient wrought iron gate loomed over Garrett, twice as tall as a man and choked with vines. Garrett forced all his weight against the gate and it strained against the creepers that bound it, opening slightly. He pushed again and it moved another inch. He wove his way through the vines and tried to wedge himself through the gap in the gate. The rusty iron scraped against his chest as he squeezed through and tried to break through the vines on the other side. Patiently he worked his way through the choking plants and eventually managed to disentangle himself.

He found himself in a wide orchard and at the end of it was Highfort, the colossal home of the Rois-Dores'. The original stronghold of the Dores' had been a stone keep, which now sat at the heart of the manor. Renovations and restorations had been carried out by almost every successor of the family until the building was grander than any other in the City. Garrett had to admit that the architecture of the building was tasteful and stylish and not given to the excesses of vogue that most old families preferred to demonstrate with their homes. If the structure of their domain was anything to go by it seemed sense and subtlety were Dores family traits.

'_Time to rob them blind.'_ He thought to himself with glee as he crept through the dark orchard. There were guards at every door, outstanding in their trim black and red uniforms. They glared at the guests brazenly, scrutinising each as they passed to and from the gardens. More guards patrolled in pairs around the perimeter of the manor, weapons within easy reach as they scanned their surroundings diligently.

Garrett whistled softly as he watched them strut with military precision, every move and expression revealing their level of discipline and dedication to duty. This was definitely not the common riff-raff he was so used to dealing with. Lights blazed in every window on the ground floor, but the first and second storeys were almost entirely dark. If he could somehow get up to the first floor he probably wouldn't have many guards to deal with.

He gave a wide berth to the couple that embraced in the dark beneath an apple tree and crouched down at the edge of the orchard, just beyond the reach of the light that spilled from the high, arched windows. The musicians played tirelessly, the melodies barely carrying over the chatter and laughter that issued from within the manor. At least all the sound would cover any of Garrett's activities. He passed into long rows of grapevines as he made his way toward the rear of the mansion.

There were guards stationed outside both rear entrances to the fort. From what information Tupper had given Garrett one was the kitchen entrance and the other was to the Highfort Barracks. Even with half the Dores fighting force gone off to war, Garrett didn't feel much like taking a chance on entering through the barracks.

There was a coal chute near the kitchen that emptied into the basement. Garrett thought it was his best bet, but he wouldn't have a chance of getting down the chute with a guard so close by. He crouched behind the vines as another roaming patrol passed by him and headed toward the barracks. The guard by the kitchen door acknowledged them with a wave of his hand and shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"Damn these new boots." Garrett heard him mutter.

A crash sounded in the kitchen, followed by angry shouts and the guard poked his head in through the door to see what was happening. Garrett didn't even hesitate; he scurried across the grass into the shadows behind the guard. With his heart thumping in his chest, Garrett waited to hear if the barrack's guard had seen him. But no alarms were sounded and Garrett relaxed and moved toward the coal chute. Garrett could see the shadow of the kitchen guard re-appear as he emerged from the kitchen but the rest of him was blocked by the corner of the building.

The lock that hung from the doors of the coal chute was simple for Garrett to pick and as he removed the lock the doors swung outward with a rusted shriek.

"What?" Was the sudden exclamation from the kitchen guard as he hurried to investigate the noise. Even in the dark the guard could see the doors hung open and his eyes went wide with surprise as he turned to run for help. Garrett was faster and he leapt onto the guard's back, his blackjack striking swift and hard. The guard crumpled to the ground with Garrett perched on his back. Garrett took hold of the man below his shoulders and dragged him toward the open chute. He pushed the unconscious guard down the chute and followed right behind. They both came tumbling out onto a large pile of coal in the basement of the fort. Garrett pulled the guard into a dark corner behind some broken old furniture and made sure his body was tucked out of sight.

Garrett ignored the stairs that led upward to the kitchen. Given the amount of noise that drifted down into the basement, it was clear the full complement of staff was busy in the kitchen, preparing food and wine for the guests. Instead he crept up the stairs to the large laundry room. It was empty and the only sound Garrett heard was the drip of a tap. Garrett consulted the rough map Tupper had provided him with and he planned a path to the first floor, passing through the staff dining hall and up the service stairs to the senior staff quarters.

Garrett exited the laundry and began to inch down the brightly illuminated corridor toward the dining hall. In the hallway the music and din of conversation coming from the ballroom was much clearer but the bustle coming from the kitchen was still predominant. Garrett could hear a gaggle of serving maids hurrying down the hallway from the kitchen and he ducked into a door on his left. Garrett found himself in the lushest inner courtyard he had ever seen. The central feature was a large fountain, the water spouting upwards in a soothing motion and splashing down into a clear blue pond. The smell of earth and fresh greenery surrounded Garrett as he made his way through gentle ferns toward a large, concrete support column that was choked by moss and vines. Although the plants where everywhere and growing on everything, it did not have a feeling of being unkempt. The numerous stone benches were permitted to cultivate moss on their thick feet, but the seats were kept painstakingly clean. The lawn beneath his feet was thick and well trimmed and many of the shrubs had been pruned into intricate designs. The overall feel of it reminded him of someone he had known once.

'_Viktoria would have liked it here_.' He mused, surprising himself with such sentimental thoughts. Garrett watched with keen interest as several guards came storming in from the far side of the courtyard, dragging a dishevelled guest behind them.

"Captain Dorleac!" The leader of the pack barked as he halted beside the fountain.

"Let me go you scoundrels!" Demanded the guest as he struggled in the iron grip of his two detainers.

"Captain?" The lieutenant ventured again, sounding less certain of himself this time. The rest of the troops scanned the courtyard in search of their commander.

"I'm here Gratis." An imposing figure emerged from the dark corner opposite Garrett. Though he was clearly quite young, the Captain carried himself confidently, as though he was born to lead. His tone of speaking was soft and calm, but held a great amount of power beneath it. He was dressed the same as the others with the exception of the golden epaulets on his uniform.

"We've got a thief here, Sir." The lieutenant inclined his head toward the guest and Dorleac slowly circled around the man. He motioned slightly with his hand and the guards that held the guest let him go.

"It's a vicious lie! I'm Ruben _Bafford_, don't you know?" The guest argued as he began to preen and straighten his clothes. Garrett knew the man, youngest brother of the Bafford clan; he had serious gambling debts and no real title or estate to garner an income from. If he was accused of theft, Garrett could well believe it.

Dorleac eventually stopped directly behind Ruben and the guest turned to face him though he shrank away from the tall Captain, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his coat. Dorleac eyed him silently as the other guards stood to attention.

"I demand to speak to the Lady of the house!" Ruben eventually blurted out. Dorelac's eyes flicked to look at a point over Ruben's shoulder and Garrett followed his line of sight.

"The Lady is here." Dorleac announced calmly. A young noblewoman had appeared near the fountain, seemingly out of thin air for Garrett had not heard her approach. Garrett thought she had the look of a predator as her eyes locked on Ruben. She wore an evening gown that was simple, yet elegant, coloured the same sombre black as the Rois Dores uniforms and embroidered with the red and gold from the coat of arms, so that her colours matched those of her servants. At a glance, Garrett thought it was clear who this woman was going to side with in the current conflict.

"Good!" Ruben crowed with triumph as he began to turn to where the Captain's gaze rested. "Cassandra would you tell…" He stopped short and the look of victory fell from his face. "Where's Cassandra?" Ruben asked desperately.

A disarming smile spread across her features and the dangerous hunter was suddenly gone as she approached the group of men, moving with the kind of eerie grace that is the product of a lifetime of practiced poise.

"The Lady is revelling with her guests, Sir. But if you have any complaints to make, I will hear them." With ease her features took on an expression of sympathetic interest and Garrett marvelled at her ability to command others. He hadn't thought it possible for the guards to stand any straighter but they had managed at her arrival. She was dwarfed by them, but they all looked upon her with clear expressions of respect and adoration. Garrett assumed she must be Charlotte; the one Tupper spoke of as wielding the real power in Highfort.

"These ruffians accuse me of stealing!" Ruben whined piteously. The lady frowned kindly in response.

"He was trying to hide these under his coat, Milady." Lieutenant Gratis interjected and another guard held out a handful of silver cutlery.

"How dare you!" Ruben blustered, but it was unclear if he was turning red from indignation or shame. Charlotte's eyes briefly flicked from the cutlery to Ruben, assessing the truth of the situation in an instant. Before Ruben could react she had gracefully looped one of her arms through his and was steering him toward the courtyard exit.

"Lord Ruben it was so good of you to join us this evening," Her honeyed words filled the night air and the whole entourage followed her as though caught in a spell by her rich voice, "but I think it is time for you to go home and rest, this whole incident must have been very vexing for you." She stopped to look Ruben directly in the eyes and patted his shoulder kindly.

"It has been." He muttered, unable to meet her gaze. "Who could dare to call me a thief? I want that man flogged!" He turned and pointed a trembling finger at Lieutenant Gratis who regarded him without fear.

"I assure you, I will settle the matter, Milord. Thank you for coming." Charlotte turned to one of the guards. "Brant, you will escort Lord Ruben to his carriage." The guard jumped forward to stand beside Ruben who once again began to puff up in protest. Charlotte reassured him with another gentle pat on the arm. "This way Brant can tell everyone who you are and that you are leaving with my good graces."

She granted Ruben another of her winning smiles and the indignant drunk was at last mollified and happily allowed Brant to escort him from the estate.

"Goodnight Uncle Ruben!" Charlotte called after them as they were leaving the courtyard. She heaved a great sigh of relief as soon as they were gone and turned back to the others. Her smile was replaced by a tired frown and furrowed brow.

"You should have just let me beat him, Milady." Lieutenant Gratis offered and a small smile twitched on Charlotte's lips.

"I'm sure he's earned a dozen beatings Gratis, but the political ramifications would be a nuisance. You know better than to say such things." She waggled her finger at him with mock scorn. "You've all been doing a wonderful job tonight." Now she addressed them with open sincerity and gratitude. "I know my mother's family and friends are all very trying but please bear with them just a few hours longer."

They replied fervently with "Yes, Milady!" Their faces beaming with pride from her compliments. She held out her hand and the stolen cutlery was passed to her.

"Better go lock these away then." Charlotte announced and Garrett watched with renewed interest as she pulled a set of keys from within the folds of her gown. "Make sure you all pass by the dining hall and get something to eat and drink when your shift finishes." She was answered with more affirmatives as she strode from the courtyard.

The troops all watched her leave, their expressions uniformly protective, except for Captain Dorleac who stared after her with a sad kind of longing.

"She's a good sort our Lady." The Lieutenant beamed as he turned back to his men.

"None better." Garrett heard one of them reply as he hurried to follow Charlotte, eager to get his hands on her keys.

He had to wait until Captain Dorleac's lingering attention turned back to his subordinates and then Garrett slipped out the same door Charlotte had left through. He could hear her heels tapping over the wooden floor in the hallway and he tried to follow her at a discreet distance. She entered the room adjacent to the staff dining hall and Garrett peered through the keyhole to assess the situation. She was at the far end of the room with three servants and it seemed gloomy enough for Garrett to be able to slip inside.

"… just like you suggested, Milady." A grizzled old man was addressing her and Garrett could see rows of silverware laid out upon the tables in the room. A petite blonde servant was diligently polishing them, whilst a middle-aged man seemed to be making a tally of the items. "They're too drunk to care what they're drinking out of now."

"I couldn't care less if they did notice we were giving them wine in bronze goblets. Here Ogden, these ought to make the tally complete." She handed the old steward the stolen silver cutlery and he bowed his head reverently as he took the silverware with both hands.

"Merrick, add these to your count." Ogden addressed the other man as he laid the cutlery on the table with the rest. Merrick quickly counted all the pieces and nodded his head.

"That's the last of it, Milady." He announced.

"Excellent." Charlotte walked around the tables making her own inspection of all the fine implements and Garrett silently climbed up some nearby cabinets and hauled himself into the rafters above them. "Let's secure it all then."

Merrick picked up a polishing cloth to help the blonde finish cleaning everything as Charlotte and Ogden began stowing the polished items in the heavy display cabinets that filled the room. It appeared that this was a routine that Charlotte and her staff knew by heart and once they had filled one cabinet with its assigned items Charlotte would close the glass doors and lock them with her keys.

The golden goblets glinted tantalisingly in the soft light but Garrett knew there was even greater plunder to be had in this estate. He waited patiently until the last treasure had been sealed under lock and key and watched Charlotte stow her keys out of sight within her gown.

"Good job everyone; I'm going to retire now." She beamed warmly at the three servants before her. "I leave the clean-up in your capable hands. Thank you for your patience this evening." She placed a hand on Ogden's arm and treated him with another grateful smile.

"T'wernt nothing, Milady." Ogden replied with a courteous nod of his balding head and he and Merrick walked through the second door that lead into the dining hall.

"Shall I attend you, Milady?" The little serving girl queried.

"No thankyou Hayley, I will be fine. They'll need all the help they can get to clean up after these people."

"Yes, Milady." Hayley bowed her head, as though she was disappointed to be dismissed to clean-up duty. Charlotte placed a gentle hand under her chin and lifted her head.

"You can have the day off tomorrow as well; I will take you to the market if you like." Hayley's eyes widened with delight at the prospect of a trip into the city on her own free time and in the company of her mistress no less. "And if any of the guesrts harass you, be sure you call the guards right away and get Captain Dorleac, alright?"

Hayely nodded obediently. "Yes Milady, goodnight."

"Goodnight, Hayley." Hayley grabbed her polishing utensils and exited into the dining hall, while Charlotte left via the door she had entered through. Garrett watched her leave and gently eased himself down from the rafters. He assumed that she would be making her way to her quarters on the first floor, and that she would use one of the main staircases, which would likely be in highly traversed areas right now, or heavily guarded. His surest route would still be the servant's stairs in the next room. With the staff all still involved with serving and cleaning in the area of the ballroom he ought to find it unused.

He pressed his ear to the door to the dining hall and heard quite a lot of chatter. Garrett pulled the door open slightly and peered into the spacious hall. It was stacked with rows of plain wooden tables and benches, enough space to seat over one hundred staff at a time. Kegs of ale had been placed in one corner and several of the benches were covered with the same assortment of food that was also being served to the guests. A group of guards occupied a group of tables, drinking and eating their fill now that they had been relieved of duty and the next shift had taken over. They were doing their best to make as much racket as possible which caused the servants to shake their heads good naturedly. With all attention focused on the boisterous guards, Garrett found it a simple thing to slip up the stairs to the first floor.

He pressed himself down against the stairs as a guard passed him by on patrol through the hallway. As soon as it was clear Garrett scurried into the hall and moved south toward the master bedrooms. Tupper hadn't been able to tell him which quarters belonged specifically to whom but it would be an easy matter to investigate. Garrett paused at a door that stood open and carefully peered around the corner. It was dark inside but he could hear numerous snores and could just make out the shape of bunks. He continued on past the barracks and the sleeping guards. It was worth knowing though, that if an alarm sounded, there would be more than a dozen extra guards ready to jump into action on this floor alone.

There was a brightly illuminated intersection ahead and Garrett pulled a water arrow from his quiver. The arrow hit the wall with a satisfactory spray and the torch spluttered out. Garrett hurried to the safety of the darkness, retrieving the arrow to avoid its discovery and then inspected each of the passages that led from the intersection. The sound of music and the fountain splashing was very clear in the closest passage and he decided he didn't want to head toward the courtyard balcony. Another passage ended in a dead end, the doors on either side opening only to numerous guest bedrooms. They were all unoccupied and there was nothing of great value to him inside. He returned to the intersection and heard footsteps echoing down the last passage. A guard appeared and stopped in the dark.

"Where's my flint?" He muttered to himself as he rummaged through the pockets in his uniform. The guard gave up his search with an exasperated sigh and hurried toward the nearest lit torch. He carefully eased it from the wall sconce and returned to light the snuffed torch with it.

"Hmmm…" The guard mused as the torch refused to ignite and Garrett knew he'd realise it was too wet to light and that someone had put it out. Garrett was already right behind him when the guard comprehended the truth and gasped in surprise. The blackjack swiped through the air once again and Garrett stepped back as the body thudded to the floor. He pulled the guard down to the guest rooms and pushed him inside the closest one.

"Hey!" Garrett's head snapped around to see a guard standing at the intersection, holding the dropped second torch in his hand. The guard regarded Garrett with scrutiny, trying to make out if the figure in the shadows was a guest or not. Garrett's hand had already grasped a gas grenade as he saw the alarm suddenly appear on the guard's features. His eye's widened and he turned to run toward the barracks. The gas grenade hit the ground just as the guard opened his mouth to draw in enough breath to shout for help and instead of air he hauled in the powerful gas.

The guard slumped to the ground with a thud and Garrett rushed over to the body, his heart pumping furiously. Moving with all haste, he grabbed the now extinguished torch and slid it back into its proper place. He took the spent grenade and slipped it back into his pouch. He quickly surveyed the area as he dragged the guard toward the guest rooms. He dumped him hastily on top of the first guard and pulled the door shut. Garrett returned to the intersection, the adrenaline still coursing through his body and he strained to hear any sounds of warning.

It seemed all clear and Garrett finally started down the last corridor, heading toward the front of the manor. His feet shuffled silently over the plush carpet and he reached another intersection. He inspected the corridor to his left and he could see four guards posted at the top of the grand staircase. More guest rooms to his right and he hid in the dark passage to those as he heard yet another guard approaching from the third corridor. Garrett pulled himself as flat against the wall as he could as the guard stopped and scrutinised the area around him. The guard called out to the staircase guards and they waved back in acknowledgement. The guard finally moved along but this time Garrett waited. He suspected he was starting to understand how these troops worked.

Sure enough only a few minutes later another guard passed through the intersection. He followed the same motion as the first guard, inspecting the area, announcing his presence to the stair guards and moving along on his patrol.

'_Hmmm, that might be a problem.'_ Garrett mused. How long did he have before those stairwell guards realised that two of their counterparts had not passed by for some time.And what would happen when these two guards reached the other intersection with the two dead torches? He would have to worry about that when it happened, but for now it would be best if he picked up the pace.

"… Reggie got carried away, didn't you dear? The little fellow up and died!" Garrett heard a woman speak merrily as he approached a set of high, arched doors. A gruff male voice responded as Garrett peeked around the corner into the lavish sitting room.

"A good lesson for the rest of them. Take my advice Cassandra, beat your servants and children regularly." An aged, rotund man addressed a blonde noblewoman who, despite her years, still appeared quite handsome.

"I wish I could," Cassandra bemoaned, "but Vincent won't allow it, and now look at how wilful our daughter has become." She paused to stuff a canapé in her mouth, before washing it down with a gulp of wine. "She gets it from her father of course." The Lady of Rois-Dores hissed drunkenly.

"Come here my lovelies!" Cassandra slurred with her shrill voice. Only now did Garrett realise that there were three other people in the room. They had been politely standing in a far corner until called for. Two strapping male youths and an unbelievably young girl, they seemed uncertain of themselves as they approached the older trio. The young girl stumbled as if she were light-headed and "Reggie" clutched at her with an iron grip, forcing her onto his lap as Cassandra plied the two boys with more wine.

The other noblewoman giggled vacuously as she joined Cassandra and the two boys in front of the ornate fireplace. The fat old man fondled the trembling girl roughly as he watched his wife and hostess sporting with the two young men, a tangle of bodies on the rug.

Garrett shuddered with revulsion at the excesses of nobility and easily slipped past without anyone noticing him. Garrett ignored all the passages leading off from the current one and continued south. At length he entered into a wide portrait gallery. Garrett regarded the raven-haired, fine-featured individuals that stared down at him from their perches on the walls. The family similarity was clear and Garrett assumed these were the portraits of all the Rois-Dores heirs, counting back innumerable generations.

'_No portraits of Cassandra._' He mused without surprise. Clearly those who married into the dynasty weren't considered eligible to have their image displayed alongside the _true_ family. At the end of the hall he found a recent portrait of Charlotte, gazing enigmatically down at him. He paused to consider that her features weren't what one would traditionally consider beautiful; her nose was too long and thin, her chin too pointed. The portrait beside hers was titled 'Lord Vincent Anton Rois-Dores" and depicted a very severe and imperious man. Garrett shook his head with wonder that these people could truly believe their blood was better than anyone else. In his experience all people bled the same in the end.

He entered a corridor that surely had to lead to the master bedrooms and he opened the first door he came to. It was comfortably decorated and had a definite masculine feel to it. He suspected that Vincent wouldn't have just left his set of master keys lying idly around while he was absent from home. A thorough search of the room proved Garrett's suspicions and he retreated back to the hall. He entered the room opposite and found such a garish and revolting display of decorative excess he knew immediately it must be Cassandra's room and passed it by. There would be nothing of use to him there.

He continued down the corridor to the next door and cracked it open. Moonlight streamed in through gauzy drapes highlighting the interior of the room with a soft blue glow. Charlotte slept peacefully in a large canopy bed and Garrett gently closed the door behind him. He crossed the room immediately to where her evening dress was hastily draped over a chair. He rummaged through the heavy folds, the soft rustle of fabric filling the room, but he found no keys. He turned to her draws next, pulling each open painstakingly slow before sifting through the contents within.

This also turned out to be fruitless and Garrett wondered where she would have hidden her keys. It occurred to him that she might be the kind of person that hid valuables under her pillow and he started to slink toward the sleeping noblewoman. Someone pounded demandingly on the bedroom door and Garrett scuttled to a dark corner near the unlit fireplace.

The banging was repeated more urgently and Charlotte roused from her slumber. She swung her feet from the bed and slid them into a pair of slippers, loosely binding her ebony tresses. She threw on a delicate white robe that matched her nightclothes as she shuffled toward the door. Orange torchlight spilled in through the doorway as she opened it wide to regard her summoner.

"Jan?" She queried as she stifled a yawn.

"Sorry to disturb you, Milady." Captain Dorleac nodded curtly. "Gordon has gone missing." This news seemed to have the effect of a cold shower on Charlotte as she shook of the last vestiges of slumber and became fully alert.

"Where was he posted?" She asked.

"At the kitchen, but one of our mobile teams reported that he wasn't at his post. We searched the immediate area and found the coal chute was open. I've got men searching the basement and armoury at the moment." The Captain instinctively rest his hand on the sword strapped to his side, it was clear he anticipated trouble.

"Good, don't raise the alarm. If there is an intruder they'll be easier to find if they believe we don't know they're here." Charlotte crossed her arms and held her chin in one hand, pondering this event. "Keep me updated." She said finally as she dismissed him. The Captain nodded again and disappeared. Charlotte seemed lost in thought as she closed the door and leant against it for a moment. She peeled off her robe and tossed it on the bed, kicking off her slippers. She collapsed back onto the soft mattress and gazed up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Garrett waited to see if she would drift back to sleep and eventually she rolled over onto her side and seemed to be settling down. He returned his attention to the matter of finding her keys, his eyes roaming over the room in search for a sign of a secret compartment. In the corner of his eye he saw a white blur move and then there was a piercing pain in his leg. Just as he registered that he had a dagger sticking into his thigh, Charlotte bowled him over onto the floor, twisting his arm back to the point of breaking.

"Don't move sneak." She commanded, her hot breath tickling his ear. She pulled back a touch to inspect him in the moonlight. Unexpectedly she released her grip on his arm and rolled off his back, pulling the dagger out of his leg as she went. Garrett grunted at the pain and pushed himself up from the floor, needing to lean against the wall for balance as he tried to stand on his wounded leg.

"You're stronger than you look." Garret admitted candidly as he reassessed the angry young woman before him.

"This is a poisoned dagger." She replied matter-of-factly, brandishing the dagger with an expert hand. Garrett studied her face, trying to garner if what she said was the truth. "I have the antidote." She continued, ignoring his cynical expression. "If you co-operate with me I will give it to you once you have left Highfort." Now Garrett did snort with disbelief. What kind of game was this girl trying to play?

"My men have a reputation for being the best and if word got out that someone managed to even enter these grounds, we'd have a non-stop stream of thieves trying to duplicate the feat! I can't allow that to happen." Charlotte spoke earnestly but to Garrett it seemed like something didn't quite add-up.

"Very well, _Milady_." He replied and despite his mocking tone she relaxed visibly. Sensing his opportunity, Garrett lunged for her, wrenching the dagger from her hand while catching her other wrist in a vicelike grip. She hissed through her teeth as he slashed the palm of her hand with the dagger. He released her and she stumbled back a step, still surprised by his action.

"Now you need the antidote too." Garrett said calmly, thinking that he had called her bluff. She stared at him as his words sank in and finally laughed in his face. Garrett scowled, not understanding her reaction.

"It's a slow poison; it will take at least three hours to work through your body. You have about an hour or so before your legs will give out on you, the nerves slowly paralysing. If you don't die from embarrassment when you lose control of your bladder, then the poison will eventually reach your lungs and your heart. And then you will die." She grinned at him triumphantly. "I think I can afford to wait a few hours thief, but I doubt you want to get trapped in Highfort without the use of your legs."

What annoyed Garrett was that she was completely right. What a cunning little bitch, no wonder her men admired her. They both jumped when someone knocked on the door. Charlotte kicked at the wound on Garrett's leg and he fell to the floor, clutching at his thigh and wincing in pain.

"If you value your life, then make not a sound." She whispered harshly as she grabbed the dagger from him and stashed it in a draw before she opened the door.

"We found Gordon in the basement." Dorleac announced grimly as soon as he saw her. "I've stationed extra men at all exits from the fort and grounds and we are systematically moving through the manor to search every square inch."

"Be sure you do it discreetly, I don't want any of the guests to know we have an intruder. Send Ogden to the front gate and have him verify the identity of every person that leaves." Charlotte grasped the open door with one hand while placing her cut hand behind her, trying to appear casual.

"Miller has also gone missing and so has Gilbert." He watched her expectantly. "They were both on the first floor." Charlotte didn't seem to react to the news but Garrett could see her right hand clenching nervously behind her back. "I'm going to send someone to guard your door."

"No." Charlotte immediately insisted. "They would all be better spent searching. I will lock my door." Dorleac did not seem convinced of this plan. "I'll be fine." She reassured him with a smile.

"I would gladly stay here and guard your door." Dorleac pledged suddenly, stepping closer to Charlotte. Garrett quirked an eyebrow and watched with renewed interest.

"I know." Charlotte replied gently. "But you must attend to your duties first, we both must." She spoke with such resentment Garrett suspected this was old territory for them both. Dorleac gathered her into his arms, stooping to kiss her tenderly. Charlotte seemed to melt into his embrace but Garrett noticed that the knuckles on her cut hand had turned white with tension.

'_Well, well_.' Garrett smirked. '_Now all the pieces fall into place_.' She wasn't protecting the reputation of her men, she was protecting her Captain. He would go along with whatever she had planned because even if he failed tonight, he still knew how to break into Highfort with ease. He would be back.

Dorleac reluctantly released his Lady before he turned about and strode back to command his men. Charlotte closed the door once again and turned the key in the lock. She didn't dare to glance at Garrett as she hurried to her wardrobe and pulled out a pile of cloth, tearing a length off to dab away the blood on her hand and then another to fasten around it. She threw the bundle toward Garrett.

"Bind your wound." She commanded. Garrett did so as he watched her pull her slippers back on and this time wrap a dark coloured robe around her frame. She looked like a slim black shadow as she stalked around her room preparing for whatever she had in mind, her pale features seeming all the more striking in contrast.

Garrett hauled himself back to his feet and tested his weight on his leg. There was a deep throbbing pain in his leg but he could walk on it. Charlotte swept past him to the fireplace, reaching up inside and pulling down the bundle of master keys. Her eyes twinkled with glee as she registered Garrett's sour face.

She motioned for him to follow her to the door. "Be silent and do try to keep up, sneak." She suggested wryly as she unlocked the door. Charlotte cracked the door open and peered out into the corridor. Garrett craned his neck to see around her and saw that the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room and Charlotte locked the door behind them.

"What if your _lover_ comes by again?" Garrett revelled in the discomfort his question caused her.

"We'll just have to be quick." She snapped back, clearly unhappy that this intruder had seen so deeply into her private life. They entered the gallery of portraits and saw guards searching with torches down the end of the hall. Charlotte scurried toward one of the portraits and reached behind it, releasing a catch to let the portrait swing outward. She looked around quickly to be sure no guards approached as she inserted one of her keys into the heavy, wooden door that was built into the wall. Despite its age it opened smoothly and without protest. Garrett thought it seemed frequently used. Charlotte stood aside and waved him in. He stepped up through the doorway and shuffled forward carefully, not sure of his footing in the dark cavity. Charlotte stepped up behind him, pulling the portrait closed as she went, securing it before she shut the door, the lock automatically falling into place. She took the lead, walking confidently through the darkness, guiding Garrett by pulling on his shirt.

"There's stairs here." She warned him but his eyes had adjusted well enough that he could make them out himself. They reached the bottom of the winding stairs and approached another door. Now Garrett could see well enough in the gloom to notice that the secret corridor spread out in two directions, with more doors further down no doubt. Charlotte had the door unlocked and was tentatively peeking out through the gap between the wall and a rich tapestry. She pushed the tapestry aside and Garrett followed her into an extensive library.

"We've been building this library for centuries." She told him, but he remained unimpressed. Books reminded him of Keepers and Keepers were nothing but trouble to Garrett. They moved cautiously, passing from bookshelf to bookshelf, but it seemed the vast library was quite empty.

"Glad to see your elite guard are doing their job." He whispered in her ear.

"Trust me Garrett, if you tried to leave Highfort through any door, window or coal chute right now, you'd be hacked into little pieces." From her tone it seemed that if this fate befell Garrett she wouldn't be terribly upset. This again raised the question of why she was so keen to help him. "They're systematically sweeping through the building, if I hadn't shown you a hidden way, you would have been caught."

"I would have found it." He replied indignantly, hiding passages and safes behind paintings was so common; it was the first place even an amateur thief would look. "Perhaps I have a secret way of my own." Garrett didn't know why he told her, but he regretted it immediately. Why should he care whether she thought he was a brilliant thief?

"Oh no, the garden will be crawling with men, you'd never reach the well." Garrett stopped in his tracks and she smiled at him condescendingly. "Your shirt is quite damp." She commented with an air of haughtiness. Garrett pressed his lips firmly together; he wouldn't let anything else slip out to give her the advantage tonight. Charlotte walked backwards, beckoning Garrett to follow her toward a large sculpture of the Rois-Dores crest. Garrett's eyes roamed over the gilded lion with its imperious crown to the crimson hawk, a sword gripped in its talons.

"The Golden Tyrants." He scoffed sarcastically and smiled when he saw Charlotte bristle.

"The Golden _Kings_." She corrected with an affected sigh, trying to act as though his attempts to provoke her had failed. "Not everyone with a title is evil Garrett." Garrett was not interested in arguing about the evils of nobility with her so remained silent. Charlotte had stepped closer to the lion and Garrett watched eagerly as she fished a small seal out from under her clothes. It hung from a chain around her neck and she leant down to press the shaped end of it into a groove in the lion's crown. There was a soft click and then the sound of grinding stone as the crest began to draw backward into the wall.

"After you Garrett." Charlotte grabbed a torch from a nearby sconce and waved it toward the gloomy passage that had been revealed. Garrett stepped inside and Charlotte followed close behind. She stopped to pull a chain inside the passage and the crest returned to its original position, locking them inside.

Charlotte once again took the lead as they followed the long tunnel on a steady downward spiral. Charlotte pulled out her bundle of keys as they reached an ancient iron door. She unlocked it and glanced over her shoulder at Garrett as she dropped her keys into her robe pocket. Garrett was not insulted by this lack of trust; he'd think less of her if she wasn't concerned about him stealing her keys.

Charlotte put her whole body into pushing open the heavy door and it screeched as it slowly swung open. Garrett followed her through and she did not bother to close it again. They were in a large, dark chamber and Garrett could just barely make out more iron doors and corridors branching out into the darkness.

"They're mostly tombs." Charlotte remarked as she noted his interest in the vaults. He doubted that they'd go to so much effort just to hide the family ancestors.

'_Must be the legendary vaults of wealth I've heard so much about.'_ Garrett mused, already thinking about how to get back into this place after tonight. Charlotte led him through the large chamber, the darkness pressing in on them, beaten off only by the flickering light of the torch.

They came to another iron door and again Charlotte passed the torch to Garrett as she unlocked it and this time pulled the door backwards. Garrett stepped forward to lend a hand, but Charlotte finally managed to get it moving with an even greater shriek of rusted metal. Behind the door was a portcullis. Charlotte took the torch from Garrett and searched the wall beside them for the mechanism to open the gate. She pulled the lever that was set into the stone wall and the portcullis slowly opened.

He followed her through the gate and she used the torch to light another one that hung on the wall. She pulled the second torch from it's sconce and handed it to Garrett.

"If you follow this tunnel to the end you will reach the canals in Stonemarket. At the end is another portcullis. There will be a switch like this one to open it." She motioned back into the chamber at the lever she had pressed. "The portcullis only opens from one side Garrett, so don't even think of trying to ever come back this way." It was almost as if she could read Garrett's mind, for that is exactly what he had been thinking. "By the time you reach Stonemarket I will have arranged to have someone meet you with the antidote. Where would you like to meet them?"

"The Trickster's Tavern." Garret didn't even know why he said it, but it was the first thing in the Old Quarter to spring to mind. Charlotte gave him a side-long glance and he wondered what had caused this sudden scrutiny.

"Very well." She replied hesitantly. "Goodbye Garrett."

"Goodnight, _Milady_." He mocked her with a curt bow, grinning at her displeasure as he turned into the long corridor. He did not turn as he heard the portcullis clamp down behind him, or the iron door slowly scream closed.

He watched his feet kicking up swirls of dust as he trudged through the gloom. He came to a sudden halt as something odd occurred to him.

"How did she know my name?" Garrett pondered. He supposed that she might have heard of him, no doubt he had robbed many of her acquaintances. Perhaps she had just made a lucky guess to his identity. "Who else would be so daring as to sneak onto her estate?" Garrett chuckled as he let his ego run wild for a moment. "Hope there aren't any burricks living in here somewhere." He thought grimly as he continued on his way.

Eventually the torch began to sputter and Garrett felt fresh air gently brushing against his face. Not long after he heard the sound of running water, he was approaching the canals. He came to the second portcullis and pulled the lever to open it. He swept the torch toward the stone floor to inspect a set of muddy footprints that were entering the passage from the canal and heading toward the Highfort vaults.

'_She lied.'_ Garret realised with glee. _'That means I can come back, but where is the lever?' _He scanned the wall in the canal but could not find any hint of a lever. He doubted it would be in plain view, but there were no signs of a hidden one. Still he could come back and do a more thorough search when he was ready to return to Highfort. He found the nearest access ladder and started to climb it. Garrett's legs gave way when he was almost at the top and he scrambled to hold on with his arms.

"I guess she wasn't bluffing about the poison." He held firmly to the ladder with his arms as he tested the strength in his legs. They felt a bit rubbery but he managed to climb to the top. It was difficult moving the metal hatch, trying to push it with one arm while grasping the ladder with the other and having no support from his legs. With much sweating and strain he finally managed to poke his head out at street level.

Garrett looked around cautiously to be sure there were no City Watch patrols in the area. It seemed clear so he scrambled out of the canal, not bothering to slide the metal cover back into place. He stumbled to a dark doorway, leaning back against the cold alcove wall to catch his breath. The wound in his leg throbbed, but what really rattled him was the feeling that his legs could crumple at any moment.

Tentatively he took a step back onto the paved street. It was only a block to the tavern; he'd just have to make it there, no matter how weak his legs felt. Garrett just hoped Charlotte would hold up her end of the bargain and actually send someone with the antidote.

Garrett was close enough to hear the buzz of conversation emanating from the tavern when his legs went out from under his again. He collapsed in the street and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He fought the urge to bring up the contents of his stomach and pushed himself back to his feet.

'_She's not going to send anyone.'_ Garrett was certain of it. What reason could she possibly have to actually send the antidote? If all she wanted was to protect her men then surely a dead thief was better than a live one that, though he had no loot as proof, could still boast that he had beaten the elite guard. Sometimes the word alone was enough. His corpse wouldn't be anywhere near Highfort, even his death couldn't mar their reputation. Only now that he was clear of Highfort, that he was away from Charlotte and her persuasive manner was he able to think clearly.

'_Garrett you've been had.'_ He couldn't believe that some rich young girl had managed to trick him so easily.

'_I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time.'_ Now he truly understood why she was adored by her staff. She'd played him like a fool, risked her own safety, to protect the reputation of her people. He might not like it, but he had to respect it.

'_Not everyone with a title is evil?'_ He thought back to her words earlier._ 'Your pure evil Milady and I'd love it, if you hadn't killed me.' _Even though he was certain he was doomed Garrett pressed on.

'_I've got nothing left to lose now.'_ He decided, so it was worth taking the slim chance that she just might send the antidote. If no-one came to the Tavern with the antidote, at least he'd be able to drink himself unconscious.

With the last of his strength he stumbled into the Trickster's Tavern, looking no more drunk than any other patron as he swayed in the doorway. The hairs on his neck prickled immediately with alarm, he was certain that everyone in the place was casting furtive glances in his direction and the chatter had died down noticeably.

"That's him." There was no mistaking Brock's guttural voice and Garrett was beset on all sides by members of the City Watch. Garrett didn't even bother wasting a flash bomb on them in a futile attempt to escape; his legs couldn't take him anywhere. The Watch Dogs approached him cautiously, many with their weapons drawn, they'd been exposed to his numerous tricks before.

"Get him!" The Captain of the Watch shouted and as one they pounced on him, pulling him to the ground and trussing him up. Garrett fought them with what strength he had in his arms, he couldn't go completely without a fight. But it was a short battle against men with twice the bodyweight as him.

"I warned you Garrett. Brock's turf!" Garrett could hear Brock the oaf, already crowing with triumph because he believed he had secured the capture of Garrett.

'_I was a dead man anyway you fool.' _It incensed Garrett that Brock would from this day on be able boast of how he had defeated the unmatchable thief. Only one person could truly be held responsible for Garrett's capture and demise, Charlotte Rois-Dores. The most depressing thing for Garrett was that no-one would ever know it was so. Garrett took some small comfort in knowing that once he was dead and gone, the Watch would come back for Brock. The fool had voluntarily exposed himself to the Watch and when arrests got scarce, the Dogs tended to even turn on their informants.

"We've got you at last you taffer!" The Dogs had hauled him back to his feet and the Captain smashed his gauntleted fist into Garrett's face, the blow knocking him backwards through the Tavern doorway and into the street. Garrett lay on the cobblestones, seeing more stars than those in the night sky.

'_Curse you Charlotte.'_ Garrett thought miserably as they dragged him down the streets, calling out their triumph as they led him toward Pavelock Prison. People clamoured from their homes to watch the passing of Garrett the notorious thief, twice the unsung saviour of the City and its denizens. _'I deserved a better ending than this.'_


	10. A Feast Fit For Rats

_Prophecy is a guide, one possible outcome from many. It is not canon. When we accept it as such we begin to tread the path toward pre-determined disaster._  
- Keeper Jameil  
_'A Brother in Exile.'_

_Pavelock Prison wasn't at the top of my list of places I never wanted to see the inside of, but it was fairly close. Tonight I was getting the grand tour by none other than the Sheriff himself. A well mannered man, Sheriff Fargus, he offered to take my cloak as soon as he saw me. Then he took my blackjack and other tools of the trade, even the shirt off my back. He stood back and let his men give me a sound thrashing, just to make me feel at home. _

Yeah those boys gave me the full celebrity treatment and then threw me into one of the deepest, dankest cells along with the rest of the condemned. Fargus himself told me they'd reserved a special spot, just for me, on the gallows at noon. But the jokes on them, I'll be dead in an hour or so. I just hate to rob them of their entertainment, especially after all the warm hospitality they've shown me. 

Garrett lay on the grimy, damp straw that made up his bed, trying to distract himself from the terrible itch the straw created on his bare back by listening to the prisoner in the cell next door. The poor sap was crying and muttering that he didn't deserve to hang. The worst thing was that Garrett knew it was probably true. Half the people that ended up dancing on the end of the hangman's rope were probably falsely accused, or guilty of a crime so petty all they deserved was a slap on the wrist. 

Unlike Garrett of course; he was guilty of every crime they'd charged him with and proud of it. 

"Ain't you gonna beg for mercy Garrett?" Garrett didn't bother to look up at the guard standing outside his cell. Merrin of the night watch had been past twice already to taunt Garrett and he assumed the boor intended to keep it up all night. "Too early for it now I suppose, you've got a bit more spine than these other sorry taffers. But you'll break when you get that rope around your neck. And when it pulls tight the last thing you'll choke out will be a cry for your mama." Merrin chuckled cruelly but Garrett continued to stare at the low roof of his cell. "Still hanging ain't so bad I guess. I heard the Hammerites are upstairs right now, telling the Sheriff to hand you over to them for righteous judgement." Garrett found that surprising. He thought he and the Hammers had called a truce since he helped them out with that whole Trickster business.

_'If you can't trust fanatics…'_ He snorted derisively. 

"But don't worry Garrett; Sheriff Fargus wants to make an example of you himself. You're safe with us!" Garrett listened to Merrin guffawing as he finally moved away from the cell and left Garrett in peace. Garrett shifted uncomfortably on the straw and winced. He wasn't sure if it was the poison or the beating that made him feel so sore and stiff. 

Though he still resented the fact that it was Charlotte's poison that had allowed him to be captured, the up-side was that it would be his means of avoiding the Sheriff's brand of justice. The notion brought a smile to his face. His stomach twisted painfully and Garrett rolled onto his side, dragging himself to the far corner as quickly as he could, scattering the rats that had clustered there. He vomited his last meal onto the cell floor, snorting and spitting the foul tasting remnants from his mouth. 

The violent retch seemed to drain the last of his energy and he feebly crawled back to his straw nest, shivering with cold and exhaustion. He collapsed on the uneven bedding and pulled himself into a tight ball, trying to alleviate the chill in his bones. He stared at the dim electric light that pulsed above him and it started to blur out of focus. The small cell fell like it was moving around him and Garrett closed his eyes, trying to fight off the nausea. The sensation passed and he opened his eyes again but his vision was still hazy, everything shifting in and out of focus. He didn't even have the strength to fight off the rats that burrowed into the straw, feeling their hot little bodies pressing against his clammy skin. Could they sense the end was imminent? 

Garrett watched the light in his cell slowly fade out until he was lost in total darkness, his vision finally gone.  
_'This is it.'_ He thought somewhere in the jumble of his delirious thoughts. With only rats to keep him company Garrett would pass quietly out of this world. Then those same rats would gnaw on his corpse until they had their fill.

"Where's rats?" He mumbled to no-one. Garrett was so far gone he couldn't even feel their warmth anymore, or the scratching of the straw beneath him.  
"Hmmpf?" He muttered, vaguely aware of a presence beside him. Garrett had never been a man of faith. Even after he had stood face to face with the Trickster, the old Woodsy Lord he had always thought was a myth. Garrett had killed a god, what need did he have of the Builder's sermons? But now he was sure there was something here in the cell with him.

He felt a hand rest on his chest and another cradled his neck. Garrett hissed in surprise, the hands burnt him with their heat. Something hard was pressed against his lips and then a bitter liquid splashed into his mouth. He choked as some of it trickled down his throat the wrong way.

"Swallow." His strange visitor coaxed him and Garrett managed to find the strength to gulp down the vile fluid. More liquid was tipped into his mouth, but this tasted slightly different and again he swallowed. The restorative effect was immediate as he felt a warm sensation radiate from his stomach over his body. Something hard was pressed into his hand and then the visitor was gone.

Garrett lay still as slowly the sickness in him passed, he felt the rats return and this time he shooed them away. Garrett blinked as the darkness suddenly struck him as being unusual. He managed to turn himself onto his stomach and turned toward the bars of his cell. There was darkness beyond his cell, throughout the entire cell block and Garrett knew there was nothing wrong with his vision. Enough light seeped in for him to make out grey shapes in the darkness. Garrett reassessed the item in his hand; it jangled as he shook it.

_'Sounds like keys to me.'_ He still felt feeble but he managed to haul himself to the edge of his cell. The door was wide open and he crawled through heading toward the exit.

"Who's there?" The man in the cell next to him cried out. "What's happening?" Garrett ignored him and continued to pull himself along using his arms, grunting with exertion. His skin quickly became slick with sweat, but at least it wasn't from his fever anymore and his body temperature was settling to normal.

Garrett's hand reached out and landed on something soft and warm. He pulled himself closer and continued his examination. He could feel a pair of legs and barely make out the shape of a body. He smirked as he suspected it was the guard Merrin and he had been knocked out cold. Garrett continued to search the body until he located Merrin's coin purse. Garrett deftly loosened the strings and then retied it to one of the belt loops on his own trousers.

_'Revenge is sweet.'_ Garrett mused with a cruel chuckle as he hauled himself over Merrin's body and toward the cell block door. He was able to pull himself upright, bending his legs beneath him and knelt in front of the heavy door. He located the keyhole with his hand and tried the first key on the key ring. Eventually he found the right key and he heaved against the door with what strength had been returned to him. He got it open far enough that he managed to wedge his body through and it clanged shut behind him as he pulled his legs clear.

The electric lights were out in this area of the prison as well, but from years of memorising pathways in the dark, Garrett was able to recall the location of the stairs and find them with ease. He found that some strength was returning to his legs and he could use them a bit to push himself up the stairs. Garrett had to find the evidence storeroom where they would have locked away his belongings. 

He found another body hastily tumbled down the stairs. Garrett collected the coin purse from this guard as well before he picked his way around the body, eventually reaching the landing. As the traces of poison were cleared from Garrett's body, the injuries incurred by the City Watch began to throb painfully and the wound in his leg was starting to smart.

Garrett tenderly touched a hand to his nose and the pain made him wince, he didn't think the Captain had broken it when he'd struck him, but it was definitely badly bruised and swollen. Garrett tried to recall the details of the floor plan he had seen of Pavelock Prison. He was glad now he had made an effort to memorise the layouts of all the City lock-ups, to be prepared for the day anything ever went wrong.

He was fairly certain that the evidence store room was on the second floor so he continued up the stairwell. The lights were still functioning on the first floor and Garrett crept slowly past the checkpoint to reach the stairs for the second floor. The officers on this floor seemed oblivious to the fact that the power was out on the lower levels. Garrett would need to hurry if he hoped to get out before one of them realised and raised an alarm.

There was a bare minimum of security this late at night, which was fortunate for Garrett as he wasn't in the best shape. He thought his legs felt stronger, but he didn't trust them to hold him up if he needed to flee suddenly. Garrett crawled along the floor past the checkpoint for the second floor. The guard on duty would hold the key to the evidence store and Garrett peered around the corner of the doorway to see what the guard was up to. The stout officer sat in a chair, slumped forward on his elbows on the desk. He hummed to himself as he drummed his fingers on the desk.

Garrett crept silently into the room, the key hung on the wall behind the officer. Carefully Garrett raised himself to grasp the key. He heard the chair creak and he froze as the guard leant back, stretching and yawning. He waited for the guard to settle down again before he deftly slipped the key over the nail on which it hung. He made it back out of the checkpoint and scurried down the corridor. Another officer patrolled down the corridor toward Garrett and he ducked into the office adjacent the storeroom. It was dark inside the office and Garrett took the opportunity to search the desk drawers for any valuables. He pocketed a handful of coins and then returned to the door, pressing his ear against it to listen to the patrolling guard.

The footsteps faded into the distance and Garrett slipped out of the office and unlocked the door to the evidence store. He closed the door behind him and locked it again. All of his equipment had been placed on one of the shelves and Garrett quickly donned it all. He then set about looking for anything of value to steal from the storeroom. There was a hoard of stolen valuables being kept for evidence and Garrett carefully placed them all into his loot bag before he secured it over his back. He listened at the door again to see if the guard was near and he heard the footsteps grow louder and eventually pass by the door. He unlocked the door and hurried down the corridor, easily sneaking past the checkpoints and back down the stairwell to the ground floor.

He easily made his way through this darkened level, finding several more knocked out officers on his way, being sure to relieve them of their purses as he went. He reached the arched entry to Pavelock and stumbled back into the City streets. He did not pause to revel in his freedom but hurried to put distance between himself and Pavelock. Almost on auto-pilot he made his way back to his latest safe-house. It was two hours til sunrise when Garrett finally tottered through the door of his apartment and locked it behind him. He managed to lump his gear onto the rickety table and shrug off his cloak. He collapsed into his bunk with a groan of relief and soon he was fast asleep.

He awoke with a start from a troubled dream to find sunlight streaming in through the window. Reluctantly he rose from bed, his wounds and muscles protesting. He pulled the ragged curtains closed and returned to his bed. Light still seeped through the ineffective rags and he threw his arm over his face to bring the comfort of darkness. His stomach rumbled with hunger but he ignored it and fell back into a deep slumber.

The second time he woke up it was night again and he felt somewhat recovered. His muscles were still stiff from the unusual exertions of the previous evening and he decided he ought to get up to stretch the ache from them as well as tend the wound in his leg. Garrett was about to rise from his bed when something dark blotted out the moonlight that illuminated the curtains. Garrett froze on his bed as the window was slowly pried open and someone quietly crawled through. Garrett pretended to be asleep as the intruder shuffled closer to his bed.

Garrett suddenly leapt up from his bed to surprise his unwanted guest but found that his limbs were more lethargic than he had expected. Still he managed to knock the other man to the floor and simply pressed his dead weight against the struggling figure. Garrett snarled when he recognised the familiar hood and shape of the Fox. The rage at seeing his nemesis gave Garrett a surge of strength.

"You again!" He spat as his hands grasped the Fox by the throat, squeezing mercilessly. The intruder choked on a response as Garrett tightened his grip even further. Futilely the Fox clawed at Garrett's arms with his hands, unable to break the stranglehold. The Fox's legs flailed in an effort to buck Garrett's body off but there was no way the small thief could shift the weight of the larger man on top.

Pain shot into Garrett's face, spreading out behind his eyes as the Fox slapped him squarely in the nose, aggravating the already bruised flesh. Garrett reared back with a cry of pain and the Fox tried to wriggle backwards and out from under him, gasping desperately for air. Garrett fell back down on the Fox, catching his wrists and pinning him roughly to the floor.

"You're right." Garrett ground out menacingly. "Choking is too fast a dea…" Garrett's voice trailed off as he stared down at the Fox's hands, spread out in silent entreaty. Time seemed to come to a dead stop as Garrett's brain wrestled to comprehend what he was seeing.

_'It's not possible.'_ He thought to himself as he stared incredulously at the angry red gash on the Fox's right palm. Garrett released his grip on the Fox's wrists and the thief immediately began to pummel his chest with his fists. Garrett ignored the hands and grasped the Fox's hood and yanked it back. The Fox froze, fine strands of dark hair falling down to obscure the blazing eyes that glared at Garrett as he reached up with his other hand to pull down the shroud that covered the Fox's nose and mouth. Charlotte's soft lips were pressed together with displeasure; her face still flushed red from being choked.

Garrett let the hood and shroud fall from his numb hands as he pushed himself off Charlotte and slowly sank onto his bed. Charlotte slid backwards until she was sitting propped up against the opposite wall. She massaged her throat with a hand as she tried to calm her breathing. Garret opened his mouth to ask a question but ended up shaking his head in silence.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright." Charlotte croaked at last, but Garrett barely heard her. His mind was still reeling, trying to come to terms with the fact that the Fox was this noblewoman.

"How is this possible?" He managed to blurt out at last, unable to find the words to express what he was thinking. Charlotte did not answer him but instead unslung a small satchel from off her back. She set it on the floor in front of Garrett and pulled out a small vial and a clean dressing. She gripped his trousers near his thigh and Garrett caught hold of her hands.

"What are you doing?" He pushed her hands away roughly. The mere sight of her made him furious.

"I'm going to tend the wound I gave you. Or would you rather let it become infected?" She fixed him with a determined glare and Garrett decided it best not to argue with her. She tore a larger hole in his already ragged pants and picked up the vial. She pulled the stopper from it and tipped some of the contents onto a piece of cloth. Garrett inhaled sharply through gritted teeth as she dabbed his wound with the cleanser. Charlotte ignored his discomfort and continued dressing his wound.

"Why do you want to help me now? You tried to kill me last night." Garrett watched her delicate hands as they deftly bound his leg with the bandage. As she finished Charlotte shuffled away from him and packed away the remnants in her satchel.

"I never tried to kill you Garrett. If I wanted you dead I wouldn't even need to wait for you to break into Highfort. I could just…" She snapped her fingers in the air with an expression of nonchalance. "And you would be dead."

"Then why have you been following me, irritating me, interfering in my work!" He gripped the edge of his bed as he thought of all the frustration and pain she had caused him.

"Because I need your help." Charlotte made her announcement confidently as though she had no doubt she would get what she wanted. Garrett laughed derisively, there wasn't a chance in the world he would do anything for her after all she had put him through.

"Why don't you just snap your fingers and get someone else to do whatever it is you need." He replied sardonically.

"Because I was told you were the only one who could help me." She threw the satchel back over her shoulder and knelt down before Garrett again. "I knew just paying you wouldn't be enough either. I needed you to respect me as a peer; I wanted you to trust me." She placed a hand on his knee and Garrett eyed it warily. "You breaking into Highfort hadn't been in my plans, so getting poisoned and thrown into Pavelock was your own fault!" Her eyes flashed with anger but she managed to quell her emotions and maintained her placating façade. "But I helped you get out, so I figure that makes us even."

"Oh you figure do you? And what about all the money you took from me?" He crossed his arms defiantly, there was no way he was going to let her sucker him in again. Charlotte rolled her eyes and dropped her hand from Garrett's knee.

"I can pay you back a hundred fold for the money I took from you. But only if you help me." Now she crossed her arms to mimic Garrett and turned her nose up petulantly.

"I could just blackmail you. I know who you are now; I could reveal your secret." He leant toward her menacingly a wicked smile on his face. But now it was her turn to laugh.

"Off you go then Garrett, just waltz right on back into the Sherriff's office and tell him who I am. Even if he is willing to listen to you before they string you up, who'd believe you!"

"Fine." He grumbled sourly. "What is it you want from me?" She sprang back to her feet and moved over to Garrett's rickety table. She picked up his cloak and tossed it too him. He caught it and draped it over his shoulders.

"Right now we need to get you to a better safe house. We stirred up a hornet's nest last night and I managed to find this place without even following you. It won't take the City Watch long to hunt you down here." She had gathered the rest of his possessions and brought them over to him. She waited patiently as he equipped himself and when he was ready she returned to the window.

"Right, follow me." She said as she climbed through the window and scrambled up to the roof. Garrett managed to follow her, trying to hide the discomfort her was in. With great effort he hauled himself onto the roof beside her and before she could move away he took hold of her arm. She quirked an eyebrow at him in silent query.

"There's one thing you need to get straight lady." He squeezed her arm slightly, bringing her discomfort and pressed his face close to hers. "I work alone." Charlotte silently pulled back from him and placed an elegant hand on his, peeling it off her arm and letting his hand drop.

"No Garrett." She replied with a triumphant twinkle in her eyes as she pulled her cowl over her head to hide her features. "You work for **me**." 


	11. A Tale of Two Thieves

_I have a very bad feeling. Charlotte, the Fox, this revelation should have made everything clear, the mystery solved. But I'm feeling even more on edge than ever. In fact my skin is tingling with dreadful anticipation. Charlotte just doesn't add up and I know she's not telling me the whole truth. Since when do refined young ladies know how to sneak and steal as well as someone like me? Unless that's what they're taught these days; along with needlecraft and social etiquette._

_The problem is that I'm hurt and more hunted than I've ever been before. Worst of all I have no money, thanks to Charlotte. So I've got no choice but to accept her help for the time being and maybe that's what she had planned from the very beginning. _

_But if I stick with her for now I might be able to figure her out and learn what she really wants from me. I suspect she doesn't need me to steal anything, not when she could get it so easily herself. So what else could she want me for?_

_Whatever it is must be important to her because she risked everything to break into Pavelock and free me. I know I shouldn't trust her, but everything else aside, she did keep her promise and brought me the antidote. I'm not used to people putting their life in the line for me; I don't know what to make of it._

_I'm not going to get all sentimental about it though. All it means is that she must desperately need me and as soon as I find out why, I can turn the situation to my advantage. Then I can get payback for all the aggravation she's caused me._

_I can't wait to knock that damned superior look off her face._

"We can rest here a minute if you need to Garrett." Charlotte was perched on the top of a brick chimney, waiting for Garrett to struggle up the steep roof to meet her. He couldn't see her face and she hinted nothing by the tone of her voice, but Garrett suspected she was getting a thrill out of wounding his pride.

'_Nobles are always trying to remind us that they're better than the rest of us.'_ Garrett had to admit however that she seemed to contradict most of the preconceptions he had of the aristocracy. He had seen how skilled she was at manipulating others to achieve her goals, but she genuinely seemed to care for her servants. She lead by example in working alongside them and clearly buoyed their morale. Or was this also a brilliant act of manipulation on her part. Perhaps she felt that he was just another of her servants now and she wanted to take care of her property. Or maybe she was a genuinely kind-hearted person and cared about him.

'_A noblewoman doesn't help a ruffian like me out of the sheer kindness of her heart.' _Garrett decided, berating himself silently for even harbouring thoughts that she wasn't motivated by her own interests. '_Obviously she just wants to use me.'_

Charlotte reached down a hand to help him up to the peak of the roof but he ignored it and grunted as he hauled himself to a stable position. Charlotte retracted her hand but said nothing. From the corner of his eye Garrett could see that her shrouded face was turned toward him, watching him silently. He cursed that cowl of hers; he needed to know what she was plotting. He pulled his own hood lower over his face and she finally looked away.

Garrett took a deep breath of the crisp night air. He could smell the rot of the city streets, but at least it was faint up this high with the constant flow of air. He gazed out across the sprawling city and in the distance could see Pavelock Prison lit up by a legion of blazing torches. Garrett chuckled softly to himself.

'_Another sleepless night for the Watch Dogs.' _His smirk faded quickly however when he considered how close Pavelock had come to being his final resting place. _'Better wise up Garrett. You've got to out-think this snake sitting beside you.'_ Garrett stood slowly, his wounded leg still a little shaky and stretched his aching muscles.

So far this evening, to move just a few blocks, it had taken them as much time as Garrett needed on a good night to cross half the city. He was getting a firsthand glimpse of what old age would be like, if he lived to see it. He was stiff and slow but he wasn't going to admit it to Charlotte. Though she obviously knew he was having a rough time and had slowed the pace considerably. Garrett knew she could move ten times faster, race over the rooftops and barely break a sweat. He couldn't bear the thought of being the weak link. All his life he had avoided taking on a partner because he didn't want someone holding him back. But now he was the liability he had always feared.

He heard Charlotte stir beside him, the soft rustle of her clothes as she reached out a hand to squeeze his shoulder. Garrett turned his face toward her and she pointed toward the far end of the street. In the distance he could make out a faint flicker of light. A City Watch patrol was approaching their location.

"Citizens, be on the lookout for the notorious thief Garrett!" The Officer was shouting as lights appeared in windows all along the street. "Anyone who harbours this criminal will share his punishment!" He wondered how long it would be before they started breaking down people's doors and ransacking their homes.

Garrett could see now that there were a total of seven officers making up this patrol and there would be others like it scouring the streets of the City tonight. This would likely continue every night until Garrett was caught or they decided he had fled the City.

'_No jobs for me then, for a long time.' _Garrett and Charlotte watched silently, like two ominous black gargoyles, as the patrol passed beneath them. The Lieutenant at the front of the column continued to repeat his proclamation, death for anyone that aids the criminal Garrett. A wave of darkness settled in behind the patrol as the lights in the windows were slowly snuffed out and the citizens returned to their beds. Garrett watched the patrol fade into the distance and Charlotte slithered off the chimney.

"Your new safe house is an apartment just south of the abandoned Mechanist tower." She pointed to a dark silhouette on the horizon and Garrett spied the ruin of Angelwatch, nestled in the luxurious centre of Dayport. Charlotte made her way toward the edge of the block.

"You spoil me." Garrett replied sardonically as he followed her. It'd be a good safe house because the City Watch would never think to look for him there. If they could manage to get into Dayport without being caught first.

"Nothing but the best for my _employees_, Garrett." Charlotte taunted him. Though he knew better Garrett couldn't help taking the bait.

"I already told you, I work alone. Now once you tell me what you want me for, if I decide I'm interested, we can be business _partners_." From the level of scepticism in his voice Garrett made it clear that he doubted he would be interested in anything she had to offer. Charlotte inclined her head slightly at his comment but did not reply.

"We'll have to take to the streets when we hit Dayport." Charlotte didn't voice what Garrett knew she was thinking. In his current state she didn't think he would be able to manage the hike across the elaborate and well spaced roofs in the affluent Dayport district. She was right though; his wounded leg was practically deadweight at the moment.

"I gave you a restorative last night, along with the antidote. Think you're feeling stiff and sore? Just wait, the effects of that potion should start wearing off soon." Garrett grimaced at the thought of feeling lousier than he already did. They clambered in silence over the ramshackle roofs of the tightly packed homes.

Charlotte paused on the edge of the final building, crouching low against the dark roof as she looked down on the streets below. The canal and a high wall separated the poor quarter from the east side of Dayport. The City Watch was guarding the solitary bridge and gate house. The bridge and its surround were brightly lit so there was no chance they could sneak across it and over the canal. The guards on patrol were also too widely spread apart. Garrett might have been able to lob a gas bomb or two down there, but he doubted the radius would be wide enough to catch all the Watch men.

He turned towards Charlotte who seemed to have lost interest in the guards altogether and was rummaging through the pack under her cloak. What emerged was a rope arrow and she let the rope unfurl neatly onto the roof as she grasped the arrow between her teeth. She unslung the bow that was nestled against her back and for the first time Garrett actually realised that she seemed to favour the same sort of equipment as he, though at a glance he could tell her bow was far superior to the one he owned. In fact it was fair to say he had not noticed before that she was carrying a bow, the dark wood having blended perfectly with the fabric of her cloak.

He surveyed her closely now to see what else she might be hiding and could see that she did not carry a sword but he wondered if that meant she was not skilled at using one. Garrett was painfully aware of how dangerous it was to assume that Charlotte was untrained in the use of weapons.

The arrow was notched against the bow and Charlotte took aim, drawing back the bowstring with a steady, practised hand. Garrett found it surreal yet oddly fascinating to be watching another skilled thief at work. The arrow was loosed and cut through the air, disappearing into the foliage of a great tree that loomed on the far side of the Dayport wall. Their keen thief senses could discern, over the gushing water of the canal, the soft thud of the arrow hitting its mark. As soon as the arrow had connected Charlotte's foot clamped down on the remaining slack of rope, halting the momentum that would have seen it follow the arrow across the canal. The rope jerked and whipped in the air as it came to a halt and Charlotte pulled the remaining rope toward the crumbling chimney stack nearest them. She looped the rope around the chimney and pulled the line taut; heaving with all the weight she could muster from her slim frame. Satisfied with the result she secured the rope with an expertly tied knot. Dust and shards of brick fell from the chimney as she gave the rope one final yank to test its strength and Charlotte seemed satisfied with her handiwork, despite the disintegrating masonry.

She reached again into her pack and produced two short lengths of chain with looped leather straps secured to each end. She passed one to Garrett and he watched her slip one of the leather loops onto her wrist. Charlotte placed the chain over the rope cable and slid her free hand into the other leather sling.

"Wait until I'm on the wall then follow me. I don't know if it will take the weight of us together." She backed up a few paces from the edge of the roof before she hurled forward and leapt off into the air. The rope dipped under her weight as she sped over the canal, her cloak whipping behind her like soft black wings. Garrett spared a moment to look at the guards along the canal but none of them turned their eyes skyward.

Charlotte bowed her body backwards and then swung her legs upward to land directly on the top of the high wall. She pivoted on her toes, turning back the way she had come and grasped at the rope with her hands to keep herself from plunging straight over the wall. She slipped her hands free of the leather straps and waved Garrett over.

Gripping the leather slings tightly Garrett hurtled off the roof. He experienced a small moment of panic as the rope dropped dramatically under his weight and he feared the chimney would give way completely. The line held however and the wall came rushing toward him. He tried to mimic Charlotte's mid air acrobatics and arch his body up to plant his feet on the wall, but he was too stiff and the cable had slumped too low from the weight of him.

His lower legs smashed into the wall and he grunted in pain as his torso continued to rush forward, his hands caught in the leather straps. Charlotte caught hold of him and the two of them nearly tumbled from their perch as she wrenched him to safety.

"Smooth, Garrett." She teased as he freed his hands from the straps. He handed her the chain and she put it away in her pack. Charlotte shimmied across the rope into the tree, finding footing on the ancient, gnarled branches. Garrett followed her into the shelter of its boughs and she began to dig the rope arrow out of the tree with her dagger. Garrett nestled himself in the crook of a branch as she worked on the arrowhead. At length she managed to pull it free and she carefully inched toward the end of the branch. She gathered up as much of the slack rope as she could and bound it together before she unslung her bow once again. Garrett edged up behind her as she took aim across the canal, the arrow flying true and wedging itself into the ruin of the chimney. The rope swung freely from the roof, coming a third of the way down the side of the building.

Garrett nodded his head in approval. A lesser sneak would have left the rope hanging across the canal, knowing they would be long gone before the dawn and anyone noticed it. Charlotte clearly understood the importance of hiding your movements from those who hunted you. If the City Watch had seen that rope overhanging the waterway they would have put two and two together and immediately narrowed their search for Garrett to Dayport, rather than having their manpower stretched thin across the entire City as it was currently. It could take days or even weeks for someone to notice the rope arrow now and if they still connected it with Garrett they would have to assume he was long gone from this area by then.

Charlotte began to climb down the tree, nimbly dropping to the lower branches. She paused and looked up at Garrett. At that angle the lower half of her face was illuminated by filtered moonlight.

"Can you manage?" Garrett grew weary of Charlotte mocking his weakness, but an acerbic reply died on his lips. Her mouth was not twisted into a sardonic smirk, her voice was gentle, concerned even. Garrett was transfixed by the sensual curve of her mouth; it expressed a desire to genuinely care for him. He felt a tightness in his chest and realised he had been holding his breath.

"I'll be fine." He replied meekly and exhaled slowly in an attempt to get a grip on himself. Charlotte continued to descend from the tree and Garrett swung himself around to hug the trunk, straining to let himself down onto the lower branches. He lost his grip and slipped down the trunk, grazing his hands and chest on the rough bark as he tried to regain his hold. Stray branches jabbed into his body and eventually he landed on a lower bough, jarring his spine as he crashed onto it. He hissed as he flexed his hands, examining the splinter studded red gashes on his fingertips. Charlotte did not make a sound as she waited safely at the base of the tree, for which Garrett was relieved. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for the rest of the descent.

He slid off the bough, trying to wedge his feet against the bark for purchase as he looked for branches to grab hold of. Finding that his hands were too feeble and sore to bear his weight he dropped to the ground, landing awkwardly on the roots that had broken through the surface. Charlotte rushed forward to steady him, looping one arm around his waist and letting him rest his weight against her. Garrett let her help him over the uneven ground, deciding that maybe he should just swallow his pride and take advantage of the situation.

'_I'll never get another chance to have a high born woman wait on me.'_ If she was willing then why shouldn't he let her help him? Better to bruise his pride than gain any more bruises on his body. Up this close he noticed how clean and fresh she smelled and realised that he must smell rotten. Unlike most of the poorer denizens of the City, Garrett actually cared about his personal hygiene. A dirty thief wouldn't last long if guards could just follow the stench to his hiding place. But he had been crawling through tunnels and fetid water, locked in a prison, sweating with fever and exertion and not had a moment to spare in days to care for himself. Even so there was a cleanliness and purity about her that he would never attain; he was still marred by the filth of the City. She was unlike anyone else he had ever known, seemingly untouched by the decay that surrounded her. The thought of Charlotte having to endure his grimy state made him extricate himself from her supporting arms in embarrassment.

'_She doesn't belong in your world, so don't get too used to having her around._' The peaceful moment was broken by the sound of Garrett's stomach rumbling. He hadn't eaten in hours and his last meal had ended up on the floor of Pavelock Prison, it was a wonder he hadn't felt hungry sooner.

"It's not far now Garrett." Charlotte reassured him as they exited the small park, entering the neatly cobbled streets of Dayport. They kept close to the side of the street, hugging the walls as they made their way through the quiet district. Garrett knew Dayport well, it was one of the major sources of his income. Some of the homes here he had visited several times. They ought to give up and hang their precious goods outside their windows for him to take every night, rather than suffering the humilation of him beating every new security measure they implemented.

The ruin of Angelwatch loomed over the district, only a shadow of its former glory. With the death of Karras and the disbanding of the Mechanists the Hammers had begun to dismantle the false idol. Garrett didn't share the same feelings as the Hammers, but he'd still be glad when every last vestige of Karras was gone.

They scurried through a well lit intersection, like rats seeking the shelter of darkness, Garrett's pulse quickening under the glare of the lamp. He supposed that at one time he might have felt comfortable moving past bright lights, but the memories of that time had faded long ago. Charlotte pointed to an archway, manned by a single watchman.

"We need to get through there." She whispered against his ear and Garrett could feel her hot, sweet breath through the rough cloth of his hood. They crept slowly up the street, not wanting to alert the guard to their presence. Garrett knew that there was a City Watch outpost at the other end of this road. It was not visible at present given that the road was curved, built to surround the adjacent estate, but they would be able to view the outpost from the archway. If the single watchman raised an alarm, there would be another three to six guards ready to chase after them.

A two man patrol rounded the corner approaching the archway, they paused to speak to the single watchman then continued on their way down the street, closing in on Garrett and Charlotte. Charlotte hurried Garrett to a dark doorway and pushed him into the alcove. Garrett pressed his back against the heavy wooden door, trying to make himself as flat as possible. Charlotte followed him in, but it wasn't really big enough to hide two people. The patrol neared them, the light from their torches licking at the shadows that concealed the thieves. Charlotte backed up against Garrett, standing on her toes in an effort to move further into the darkness. Garrett snaked an arm around her waist to help steady her and pulled her in even tighter against him. The patrol was right on top of them and Garrett could feel Charlotte's pulse quicken beneath his hand, her body preparing to spring into action if needed. Her breathing however remained steady, she was not about to panic.

The seconds seem to draw into hours as they waited for the patrol to pass them by. The Watchmen disregarded them entirely and continued on their way and Charlotte lingered in the alcove, waiting for their footsteps to fade in the distance. She pulled away from him suddenly and peered around the corner to be sure the coast was clear. Garrett remained propped against the doorway, taking a moment to rest his aching body.

"Stay here a moment." Charlotte turned to command him and Garrett simply nodded his head in assent. He was too tired to argue with her anymore. He assumed that the effects of the restorative were wearing off because he suddenly felt incredibly drained. It wasn't just that his limbs ached and his nose throbbed, he felt too lethargic to even stand upright any longer.

Garrett shuffled to the edge of the alcove to watch Charlotte as she ascended the wall above, finding hand and footholds in the gaps between the bricks. She made it look so effortless as she quickly reached the roof, disappearing from his sight. Garrett waited in the alcove, keeping an eye out for any signs of another patrol. He watched the guard by the archway with great interest, anticipating that he would be Charlotte's target. The watchman was clearly growing restless at his post and Garrett wondered if he could be easily seen from the guard house. If Charlotte knocked him out would they not be immediately alerted?

Garrett was growing concerned that she seemed to be taking an awfully long time when he saw an arm reaching out from the archway behind the Watchman. The blackjack struck him hard and fast on the back of the neck and he began to topple to the ground. Equally as quickly a second arm appeared and jerked him backwards into the shadows. Charlotte emerged a moment later her attention focused on the outpost that was still blocked from Garrett's view. She waved Garrett toward her urgently and he stumbled out into the street, trying to make his leaden legs move.

Charlotte was staring at the guard house and she returned to the shadows of the archway. Garrett was using the wall to support himself as he made his way toward her. He could feel that his legs wanted to give out, but he wouldn't fall, he drove himself beyond breaking point and managed to stumble into the safety of the archway where Charlotte waited. He paused to catch his breath, leaning against the cold stone bricks and his legs burned from exertion.

"We need to keep moving." Charlotte said as she surveyed the path ahead of them. Garrett nodded his head and pushed himself away from the supporting arch. Charlotte turned to have once last glance behind them and she seemed taken aback, her body becoming rigid with tension. Garrett tried to see what had caught her sudden attention when Charlotte grabbed his arm, trying to spin him around and push him away from the arch.

"Let's go, come on." She prodded him rather forcefully and Garrett thought her voice quavered slightly with alarm. He started to move forward but not without a quick glance behind him toward the outpost. He wasn't too certain from this distance but amongst the blue uniforms of the Watchmen, Garrett thought he could make out the black, red and gold theme that was intrinsic to the uniforms of the Rois-Dores retainers.

Charlotte's sudden nervous tug at his arm, trying to propel him away, seemed to confirm that what he saw was true and that furthermore, their presence here was as much a surprise to Charlotte as to him.

'_Interesting.'_ Garrett mused. _'Is it possible the servants don't always follow their mistress' commands.'_ If they were, as he suspected, on Garrett's trail then it could be not only a great hindrance for him but also an excellent opportunity to gain his revenge against Charlotte. He would have to step very carefully from here on in, but seeing Charlotte lose her cool, if only for a moment, certainly buoyed his spirits. It proved that she wasn't always so in control of herself or the situation. It was possible to catch her off guard, to outthink her and make her panic.

He followed close behind her and the further they moved from the guardhouse the more Charlotte relaxed. She led him through another small park that seemed wild and unkempt. The fountain that formed the centerpiece of the garden was being throttled around the base by think vines. The passed over a metal bridge, spanning a stream that trickled through the park and the sound of the water splashing and gurgling in the fountain masked the ring of their boots on the bridge.

They entered into a broad lane that was built up on either side by grand townhouses. Charlotte led Garrett to the third one on their left and she climbed the stairs to the front door.

"The landlord will have retired by now, no-one will see us." Charlotte opened the door and stepped into the front entryway. Garrett hurried in behind her and shut the door quietly.

"I've secured you an apartment under the guise of a visiting noble. No-one will bother you while you are here." Garrett followed her to the end of the hallway and they proceeded up a rather grand spiral staircase, Garrett having to drag himself up using the bannister.

At the very top of the stairs they reached a small landing and Charlotte produced a key to unlock the single door before them. She let the door swing open and motioned Garrett to step inside. Garrett warily stepped into the dark space before him and as Charlotte followed him she flicked a switch on the wall. Electric lights sparked to life and Garrett was dazzled by the sudden blaze.

He didn't know whether to be stunned or disgusted by the opulence of the place. The front room alone was the size completely of his old flat. Garrett didn't know if he would feel comfortable living in such a place, he felt he ought to be there to steal something, not to make himself at home.

"There's hot running water available, the bathroom is through that door." She motioned to their left. There is fresh food in the living room, just ahead of us. Eat, rest and regain your strength. I'll let you settle yourself in and I'll see you tomorrow night." Charlotte placed the key on a cabinet nearest the front door and moved to leave. Garrett grabbed her feebly by the elbow and she halted.

"Wait you're supposed to be explaining some things to me." He wanted her to know that she couldn't distract him with a bright, fancy apartment.

"It can wait til tomorrow; I have other loose ends to tie up tonight and I'm running out of time." She removed his hand from her arm and made for the door again.

"So sorry to keep you." Garrett spat sarcastically, but he didn't have any real fight left in him.

"I'll send Benji around tomorrow." Charlotte responded, ignoring his foul mood entirely. "He can get you anything you might need and keep up appearances by playing page boy to your Lordship." She passed through the doorway and was gone, leaving Garrett alone to fume in silence.

He staggered into the living room, ignoring the food on the table, despite the fact that he was absolutely ravenous. He tried the first door he came to and was relieved to find it was the bedroom. He shucked all his equipment hastily onto the floor and switched off the light. He collapsed on top of the bed, not even bothering to undress or climb under the covers. The bed was far too soft compared to what he was accustomed too.

"I'll probably never get to sleep on this thing." He grumbled, still in a foul mood. Yet despite his complaints he closed his eyes and was sound asleep in a matter of minutes.


	12. Ruby's Resthouse

Just thought I should put an additional warning on this chapter since there are some sexual themes involved. I hope everyone enjoys it.

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_I woke up at around midday and it took a good amount of coaxing to get my abused body up out of bed. In the light of day I could take a proper look at my new hide out. It sure was some fancy place that Charlotte had set up for me. I had to admit she was pretty smart as the City Watch would never think to look for me here and even if they **did** suspect I was here, they wouldn't risk incurring the wrath of some high and mighty nobleman._

_The first thing I did was run a steaming hot bath, it's been far too long since I had the luxury of running hot water and it makes a nice change from splashing yourself down with cold water from a basin. It was just what I needed to relax my muscles and my mind and let me think over the events of the last few days. It was good to step back and examine things without having Charlotte around to confuse and distract me. _

_I thought back to those Rois-Dores troops talking to the City Watch and how I might _

_turn it to my advantage. Exposing Charlotte for what she was seemed the most obvious ploy, but I had a suspicion that they were all too rabidly loyal to her to even believe such a thing. Their presence in the City seemed to shake Charlotte up more than it did me though and that was definitely going to come in handy. _

Garrett ducked his head beneath the warm water, scrubbing at his scalp with his fingertips. He surfaced again and wiped the water from his eyes, scanning the numerous toiletries laid out beside the large bath. He picked up the nearest flask and pulled out the stopper, sniffing tentatively at the contents. It appeared to be some kind of heavily scented body lotion. Further examination of the remaining bottles revealed that they too were all expensive shampoos and colognes. Garrett just wanted to get clean, not smell like some rich dandy. He managed to locate a bar of soap that wasn't too heavily scented and he rolled it between his hands to work up a lather. He swept the resultant foam through his short cropped hair and soaped up the rest of his skin. The bath water quickly turned a murky grey and Garrett sank beneath the surface once more to wash the soap from his head and torso.

He came up for air and rest his head against the curved side of the bath letting his body relax and soak up the warmth of the water. He sighed contentedly; it was just what he had needed to relieve his aches and pains. He inspected the angry red wound on his leg and hoped it hadn't been infected by all the muck it had been exposed to. He would have to get it properly seen to and stitched up today before he had to endure whatever torture Charlotte had devised for him this evening. His mind wandered to the events of last night and the close call they had as the two thieves had tried to squeeze into the tiny alcove. He thought of how fast his heart had beat at their near discovery by the City Watch. The thought of Charlotte pressed up against him had Garrett's heart beating the same rapid pace again and he wondered if it really was the fear of discovery that had made it beat so last night. Now as his body flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water Garrett had his doubts. A different kind of ache began to grow inside him and Garrett pushed himself hurriedly out of the bath, angered by his body's betrayal.

His wet feet splattered on the tiles and he stomped from the bathroom, grabbing a towel as he went. He hastily dried the water from his upper body and wrapped the thick towel around his waist. He returned to the bedroom and hoped that Charlotte had left appropriate attire for him in the large wardrobe he had spied there. Garrett flung open the doors of the wardrobe and grimaced in disgust. His disdainful eyes fell upon the finest looking specimen's of the seasons latest in gentlemen's fashion. Garrett wouldn't be caught dead wearing these fancy suits, unless it was a necessary disguise for a job. He supposed, as he tugged experimentally at a pair of purple tights, Charlotte had arranged it so that if anyone happened to search this apartment, it would look as though it was lived in by this fictional noble she had created. Out of curiosity he checked the wardrobe for any hidden compartments but swung the massive doors closed with dismay when he failed to find anything.

The though of putting his sewer soaked clothes back on was incredibly unappealing. He would have to wash them as best he could in the bathtub and hope they would dry before evening. He bundled together his soil caked clothing and began to head for the bathroom. He heard a knock at the front door and Garrett plunged back into the bedroom. He hastily dumped his clothes on the floor and took up his dagger. He didn't expect that Charlotte would return so soon, nor did he expect that she would have knocked. He heard the lock slide open and his visitor entered the front hall.

Garrett double checked to be sure the towel was securely fastened around his waist and crept to the bedroom doorway. He heard the heavy keys being tossed carelessly onto a side cabinet and the visitor moved into the living room. Something heavy was placed onto the table and Garrett peaked around the side of the door.

"Oh it's you." Garrett muttered snidely as he relaxed and stepped into the living room. Benji turned to face Garrett without alarm but he averted his eyes quickly when he saw that Garrett was not dressed. The boy fussed with his hair, which had been slicked back to look quite smart. Garrett assessed Benji's fancy outfit and remembered that Charlotte had said he would be playing page boy. Cleaned up as he was Benji could have almost passed for one, only he was far too gaunt in the face. Even the worst treated page boy wouldn't look as starved and shifty as Benji.

Benji had placed a large basket on the table and now he reached into it and pulled out a heavy bundle of dark fabric. He tossed it at Garrett who caught it easily.

"We thought you might like some fresh clothes." Benji remarked coolly, equally as unhappy to see Garrett again. Garrett let the clothes unfold onto the floor and held up the shirt to examine it. It was a deep, dark green as opposed to being black and it was clearly well tailored. Much more expensive clothing than Garrett was used to, but it was more sturdy than extravagant. He pulled the shirt on over his head and Benji went about emptying the rest of the basket's contents.

Garrett pulled on the trousers and picked the inky black cloak and hood off the floor. He threw the hood over his head and adjusted it upon his shoulders, feeling much more comfortable wrapped in his shadowy cocoon. He draped the cloak over the back of an armchair and went to the bedroom to retrieve his boots.

He sat on the bed and pulled his boots on as Benji came into the bedroom carrying a large sack. He began to stuff Garrett's old clothes into the sack, seemingly unbothered by the smell of them. He bound the sack tightly closed and hefted it over his shoulder.

"We'll get these cleaned today." He announced as he exited the bedroom. "Come and eat."

Garrett strode over to the table to find the food Benji had laid out for him. All the old faire was gone and he found fresh bread, cheese, a few slices of cold mutton and some fruit. There was even a small skin of milk and Garrett plonked himself down at the table to eat and drink his fill. Benji eased himself into one of the armchairs by the window and stared down into the street as he waited for Garrett to finish.

"I find it strange that you so patiently wait upon me." Garrett eyed Benji suspiciously as he tore a chunk of bread from the loaf. Garrett knew Benji had lied to him; there was no way he couldn't have known the identity of the Fox but had not betrayed it despite being threatened by Garrett. The knowledge that Charlotte could have inspired such loyalty in a treacherous street rat like Benji put Garrett on his guard.

"I'm getting paid well enough." Benji replied not bothering to even look at Garrett. In fact Benji seemed down-right smug about the whole affair, as though he took great pride in having hoodwinked Garrett all this time. Garrett wondered how much Benji knew of Charlotte's plans, did he have information that could be useful to Garrett. Was it too late to try and smooth out the tension between them?

"Don't suppose there's a razor in there at all?" Garrett asked Benji as he finished eating and pointed at the basket the boy had brought with him. Garrett didn't mind a bit of stubble on his chin, but left this long it was becoming a nuisance to him.

"Yes." Benji replied with another strange little half-smile as he stood up to rummage through the basket.

'_He definitely knows something I don't.'_ Garrett decided as he watched Benji. The boy pulled out a razor, brush and a small pot of soap powder and handed it to Garrett.

"Thanks." Garrett acknowledged him with a nod and stood up. He made his way back to the bathroom and sat the shaving tools on the side of the hand basin. He could hear Benji clearing away the items on the table as he lathered up the soap and went to work with the razor. It seemed Charlotte certainly had thought of everything that he might need, but he supposed she was used to running a large household full of servants and entertaining important guests. It was probably her job to anticipate any need they might have.

He patted the residue soap off his face with a towel and noted with a touch of arrogance that his dextrous hands had once again spared him any nicks from a deadly sharp razor. Garrett felt a pang of sadness as he inspected his rugged face in the mirror. His mechanical eye stared back, cold and lifeless and Garrett rued the day he had agreed to work for Constantine. While he didn't believe that Charlotte was another Pagan god in human guise, he was still wary of any wealthy eccentric.

"So how did you come to be in the employ of the Fox then?" Garrett asked Benji as he returned to the living room, readjusting his hood to hide his face once again.

"This is your allowance." Benji dodged Garrett's question entirely and held up a small money pouch instead.

"Allowance?" Garrett repeated in a near growl, his mood turning dangerous.

"Well you've not done anything to earn a full wage as such, but it was thought you might need an advance until that time." Benji replied coolly, hiding any apprehension he might feel. Garrett clenched his teeth in outrage, his lips pulling back in a furious snarl at the gall of that woman. She steals from him, stabs him, nearly gets him killed and then puts him on a measly allowance? He snatched the purse from Benji and crushed it in his hand, not even bothering to inspect the contents.

"You can leave now Benji." Garrett's tone made it clear this was not a suggestion but an outright command.

"Actually…" Benji began, his face betraying a flicker of tension. "I'm supposed to stay here with you until later." Benji paused to try and gauge Garrett's reaction but being unable to see most of the thief's face he couldn't really guess at what Garrett was thinking. "It's just, you know… just…" Benji began to stammer nervously as Garrett continued to watch him silently. "To make sure that, well, in case the City Watch turns up, or anything. That's all. Just in case."

"Shut-up Benji." Garrett growled and the boy clamped his mouth shut. Garrett slumped into the chair nearest him, disgusted by the idea of this boy being sent to baby-sit him.

'_At least he doesn't look so smug anymore._' Garrett thought wryly as he located his own money pouch and tipped his so called allowance into it. There was more in it than he had expected which mollified him slightly. It would be enough to see him through this evening at least. As soon as the sun hit the horizon he was getting out of this flat. He had to do something to regain his independence; things were too quickly spiralling out of his control.

Benji still stood in awkward silence, occasionally sneaking furtive glances at Garrett. The thief supposed he had ruined his chances of drawing any information out of Benji now, unless he could get the lad relaxed and talkative. He was only a kid after all, it couldn't be too hard to get him to slip up and let out some useful secret.

"So I guess Brock was boasting pretty heavily the night I got dragged off to Pavelock." Garrett tried to make his gravely voice as pleasant and companionable as possible.

"Yeah." Benji managed to respond with a small chuckle. He backed away from Garrett and returned to his armchair near the window. "Was acting like he was the biggest criminal mastermind in the City. He got so drunk he even tried to pick a fight with us again." Benji shook his head, his eyes lighting up at the memory. Garrett scoffed disdainfully but did not make any attempt to interrupt Benji.

"You should have seen it though, Charlie just stared him down, was the best thing I've ever seen. He even had his whole gang there with him, but I guess the idea of getting embarrassed by a scrawny kid again was too big a risk for him to take." Garrett nodded in agreement.

"It won't compare to what I'll do when I find him tonight." Garrett was looking forward very much to the revenge he would visit on that scum Brock.

"You're too late Garrett. Brock got hauled away by the Hammer's early this morning." The same crooked smile returned to Benji's face.

"What!" Garrett exclaimed disbelievingly, he couldn't believe he was going to get cheated of his revenge.

"Yeah, apparently someone tipped them off that Brock trafficked stolen Hammerite relics, one of the worst crimes in their book. I wouldn't want to be Brock right now." Benji grinned unsympathetically.

"Brock didn't traffic relics." Garrett was puzzled. "He was a debt collector and petty thief; he wasn't smart enough for something like that."

"Yeah we all know that, but the _Hammers_ don't." Benji winked slyly at Garrett.

Garrett finally managed to grasp what had occurred while he was nearly dying in Pavelock. Someone else had taken it upon themselves to punish Brock by tipping off the Hammers with false information, knowing that to the fanatics the truth was unimportant. But who would do that? Garrett didn't kid himself that he was beloved by the other denizens of the underworld. He might be the best thief in the City and with that came a certain level of respect, but it certainly didn't win him any friends.

"You're not the only one that hated Brock, Garrett." Garrett didn't know who Benji was implying by that but he had lost interest in probing the boy for information. All he delivered was one disappointment after another. He stood up and returned to the bedroom to sort out his equipment. He bundled it all into his arms and stacked it on the table in the living room. First he checked to make sure that all his tools were dry and free from any sewer refuse. He retrieved a small towel from the bathroom and dampened it with a bit of water in order to wipe the layer of grime off his arrow quiver as best he could. He laid out all the arrows to be sure they dried properly by the evening. Luckily his dagger was safely protected in its sheath and avoided any chance of going rusty. Likewise he kept his various bombs and mines tightly wrapped in a specially treated pouch that kept the water out.

Benji silently watched Garrett work away until the shadows outside were growing long. Garrett could barely contain himself as he hurriedly strapped all his gear to his body. He was going stir crazy in this lavish apartment.

"I'm going out, don't try and follow me." Garrett was finally ready, retrieving the cloak from the chair and throwing it over his shoulders. He made his way to the door and picked up the key Charlotte had left for him the night before, tucking it away in his belt pouch.

"I think you were meant to wait until…" Benji began as he shadowed Garrett to the door but Garrett held up a finger in stern warning and the boy fell silent.

"I've waited long enough. No-one owns me." Garrett spat out slightly more vehemently than he had meant to. He turned and left the apartment, shutting the door quietly on Benji and hurrying down the stairs to the street and the amber streaked evening sky. Garrett basked joyfully in the shifting shadows and the crisp air as the temperature dropped with the setting of the sun.

He was still forced to walk with a limp but he was feeling fresh and rejuvenated after a good night's sleep, a bath and a decent meal. He had only one destination in mind for this evening before he would inevitably have to return to the apartment and square off against Charlotte. He had no illusions that he could run and hide from her; somehow he knew she'd track him down eventually. But he felt an immature thrill at the thought of irritating her for a change. Not too much though, he didn't think he should push his luck too far just yet.

The streets were still fairly busy at this time, the curfew would not be in effect until full dark and even then it would be slightly more lax in affluent areas like Dayport. Garrett found the shadows slightly too scarce for his liking as he made a beeline for Ruby's Rest-house. It was located just on the western outskirts of Dayport and would be his sanctuary for the next few hours. It was the one place he felt he could show his face and not have to worry about someone turning him in for the reward on his head. Ruby's was known for its discretion, that its staff could be trusted. That reputation was worth more than a King's ransom.

Garrett found himself at the western wall that bordered Dayport and as he expected the gate was manned by a swarm of City Watch. He didn't really fancy diving into the canal after just getting clean and dried, but he didn't have much choice. At least the canal water was fairly fresh compared to the sewers.

Garrett backtracked down an alley and eventually reached the wall again just south of the Gate house. With a lot of huffing and puffing he managed to clamber up the wall and over the top. He paused to have a quick look around for any guards before he dove into the canal on the other side. He let the current carry him down-stream for a few blocks before he took hold of an access ladder and hauled himself out of the waterway.

He scrambled to the nearest shadowy doorway, the water streaming from him in heavy rivulets and he waited to be sure no-one had seen him. He hurried down the now empty streets and felt a huge wave of relief as he finally saw the signpost outside Ruby's. On the outside it looked just like a normal inn, Ruby did not believe it was necessary to flaunt oneself, it tended to attract the wrong kind of attention. All other Bordello's that had tried to open this close to respectable centres of the City had been quickly shut down. By keeping a low profile Ruby avoided the ire of the Cities respectable ladies and earned the custom of its lords who came seeking discreet relaxation.

Garrett opened the heavy door that separated the lush otherworld of Ruby's from the glum streets of the City and immediately a heavy hand fell on his back, grasping a firm hold of his cloak.

"Hold it you." The doorman grunted as he nearly picked Garrett up off the ground by the scruff of his neck. Garrett pushed back his hood slightly to show his mechanical eye to the gigantic brute.

"It's me, Bregor." Garrett craned his neck to look up at Ruby's only form of security. The man dwarfed all others with ease and his heavy frame belied the speed with which the doorman could move. Garrett had seen him in action several times against rowdy and unwanted patrons.

"Sorry Garrett." Bregor let Garrett go and closed the heavy front door.

"Is Ruby free?" Garrett asked as he shrugged out of his wet cloak.

"Nnng." Bregor grunted negatively as he pulled back the heavy drapes that separated the front entry from the lounge bar.

"How about Sarvi?" Garrett stepped inside the lounge and Bregor pointed toward the back of the large room and Garrett saw a flash of fiery red curls as Sarvi swept around the room serving drinks. "Let Ruby know I'm looking for her." Garrett clapped Bregor on the shoulder and the hulk returned to his corner to watch the door.

Soft music played on a Viktrola in a corner of the bar, mixing with the gentle murmurings and giggles of the girls as they flattered and teased their patrons. Gauzy curtains hung from the ceiling, creating small pockets of privacy whilst also maintaining a sly voyeuristic feel. A few of the girls noticed him and smiled as he passed by but quickly returned their attention to their current client. The air hung heavy with enticing perfumes and incense. He wove his way through the sea of plush love seats and divans toward the bar where Sarvi was putting away empty glasses.

"Garrett." She shook her head when she saw him, laughing at his bedraggled state. "Never a dull moment?"

"I wish." He remarked dryly. "Have you got a moment, I hurt my leg."

"I should have known, it's all you ever want me for." She rolled her azure eyes at him with good humour and flashed her brilliant smile that made men's hearts melt. "Head on up to my room, I'll be along in a minute or two." She shooed him away toward the stairs that led upwards from the lounge.

Some of the girls had to share rooms, but Sarvi was a high earner and so had her own private abode in which to entertain her regular clientele. Garrett wasn't what they would consider a regular client, he was a special case. He came to Ruby's for more than just carnal pleasures, it was a major source of information to him and a handy place to get his wounds patched up. Sarvi had an experienced hand when it came to wounds of all sorts. Garrett wasn't sure what line of work she had been in before she came to the brothel, or even why she had given it up. She didn't talk about it to him and he figured it was no business of his anyway. He climbed the stairs past the first floor, up to the second and made his way down the long hallway. A couple emerged, breathless and flushed from one of the many rooms ahead and had to squeeze past Garrett in the narrow hall as they returned to the lounge.

Sarvi's room was the last on the right and Garrett pushed the door open to reveal the plush sanctuary. The large bed formed the centrepiece of the room but on the opposite side there was a dark, fabric screen dropping down from the ceiling and this separated the entertaining area from Sarvi's own private living space. Garrett passed through the screen to find the small stove that Sarvi used to cook her meals and heat her bedroom. He opened the front grill and stoked the fire inside before he pulled a couple of simple wooden chairs over to it and hung his cloak from one in front of the stove. He shucked off his equipment and set it on the small table beside the chairs before removing the rest of his clothes and also hanging them to dry.

The door to the bedroom opened and closed and soon Sarvi appeared on the other side of the screen.

"So what's the damage?" Sarvi asked, unabashedly looking Garrett up and down. She spotted the wound on his leg and her brow knit with sympathetic concern. She guided him back to the main part of the room and fetched him a spare robe she kept. "You don't want to be catching a cold on top of everything else." She said as she tossed the robe at him. Garret wrapped it around his body and she guided him onto the settee at the foot of the bed. She pulled a foot stool from underneath and raised Garrett's leg onto it. She pulled the robe aside to reveal his leg and prodded at the wound, ignoring Garrett's sharp intake of breath at the sudden pain.

"Well I think it will heal alright, I can't see any serious amount of infection there." She stood up and disappeared beyond the screen, re-emerging with a basket Garrett had seen many times before. She set it down between them on the sofa and pulled out a small flask. Sarvi pulled the stopper free and gently tapped some of the powdered contents onto Garrett's wound. He choked back the cry of pain as the powder caused a sharp burning sensation in his leg. She put away the flask and pulled out a needle and thread. Garrett let his head drop back against the settee as she stitched up his wound; he closed his eyes and tried to think of something other than the needle pushing into his flesh. Sarvi did not speak as she concentrated on his leg and Garrett appreciated that she took her task very seriously.

The door opened again and a tall blonde woman entered. Despite being well into her forties she was still a strikingly handsome lady and her blues eyes sparkled with delight as they fell upon Garrett.

"Poor Garrett." She teased in her dulcet tones as she approached the bed, coming to sit behind Garrett and rest her warm hands on his shoulders. "You must be getting old and slow to have suffered a wound like that." Garrett scoffed at the playful insult. Ruby was probably the closest thing he had to a friend in the City and it was not uncommon for her to say things in jest that others would never dare to utter.

"I'm in pain Ruby, cheer me up." Garrett looked up at her with an exaggerated expression of anguish and Ruby clucked back in motherly fashion.

"Did you know the Rois-Dores are after you?" She held his face in her hands forcing him to look directly at her so she could express how serious a situation he was in. The humour drained from Garrett's face.

"I had a suspicion." He replied sourly and sat upright to free himself from Ruby's grasp. Sarvi had finished with his leg and looked at Ruby. He guessed that a silent communication had passed between the two women as Sarvi packed away her kit and quietly left the room.

"I got the word just now from a Lieutenant of the City Watch. You know those Dores boys do not frequent my infamous establishment." She smiled wickedly, revelling in the reputation of her bordello. "They're masters would not look kindly upon it." She slid off the bed and came to join Garrett on the sofa. "But apparently they've been sniffing around ever since the news broke of your capture. Won't say why though." Ruby scrutinised him intently and Garrett turned his gaze away from her.

"I'm not even sure myself what's going on right now Ruby. Everything's a little mixed up. I just needed to have rest from dodging the Blue Coats."

"You know you are always welcome here." Ruby gently patted his knee. Garrett had never really understood why Ruby had taken a liking to him; he supposed that she just loathed authority as much as he did. They had found a kindred spirit in each other; it was as people say a relationship that just 'clicked'. It didn't hurt that they had done each other numerous favours. When any of the City Warden's tried to muscle in on Ruby's and take a cut of her profits, they'd soon find that money from their other establishments would mysteriously disappear. No-one could openly accuse Ruby and Garrett of stealing the money, but the Warden's would take the hint and back off.

"Now then," she stood up from the sofa and straightened her skirts, "you're feeling incredibly tense." Ruby smiled again as she squeezed his shoulder. "Shall I fetch Sarvi back or maybe Carmen?" She turned at the door to await his reply. "Maybe both?" She treated him to a sly wink.

"Do you have any girl's with long black hair?" Garrett murmured quietly not even realising what he has asked until it was too late. Ruby raised her eyebrows in surprise but smiled again.

"I think I know just the one." Ruby disappeared through the door and Garrett was left alone in Sarvi's room to sit dumbly and wonder why on earth he had made such a request. He pushed himself up from the settee to test his weight on his leg and was pleased to see that Sarvi's neatly constructed stitches held well. It would remain to be seen how they held up under more vigorous circumstances.

There was a polite knock at the door before a petite girl with luxurious black locks entered the room. She eyed Garrett up and down and blushed lightly.

"I'm Kitty." She announced as she sauntered across the room toward him. "Sarvi has told me all about you Garrett." She smiled slyly, her eyes twinkling as she pressed herself against Garrett. She smelled like fresh blossoms, her silky gown so soft against his bare arms.

"Pleased to meet you Kitty." Garrett whispered huskily as they tumbled onto the bed together, his arms wrapping tightly around her slim frame and his mouth hungrily devouring her own, smothering her delighted whimper of surprise at the sudden intensity of his embrace. Garrett was determined to wipe away all traces of a certain other raven haired lady, which had all too frequently occupied his thoughts of late. As Garrett and his mistress grunted and groaned their way to a sweaty climax there was one memory he couldn't shake. The moment of dread he had shared with Charlotte, pressed tightly together in that darkened alcove, as intimate as any lovers as he had held her close and felt her beating heart.

Garrett collapsed onto his back, Kitty panting exultantly by his side as she snuggled up against him. Garrett's stomach twisted painfully as he was struck by a moment of clarity and realised that the idea of a partner in crime didn't irritate him as much as it had in the past.

"You seem a little distant, sugar." Kitty stroked his chest, trying to draw his thoughts back to her. Garrett gave himself a little shake and looked at her. What a fool he was being, obsessing over Charlotte when he had this gorgeous woman here with him right now.

"Let me make it up to you." He purred in her ear and then pounced on her suddenly, provoking excited giggles from the lithe whore. They wrestled on the bed, becoming tangled in the soft sheets. Kitty's knee bent upwards and accidentally knocked the wound on Garrett's leg. He barked in pain and pushed himself away from her, clutching at the wound as he squeezed his eyes shut in agony.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Kitty crooned apologetically, sliding down to inspect his leg and pulling his hands away so she could make sure the stiches were still in place. "Let me kiss it better." He looked down as he felt her warm mouth press a gentle kiss on his wound. Slowly she began to trail soft kisses up his thigh and she looked up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Garrett grinned broadly and stretched back on the bed; swayed by her expert ministrations he soon forgot the slight pain she had caused him.


	13. The Naked Truth

Here it is finally, the new chapter of Thief and the Fox. Hope it was worth the wait.

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_My clothes were still damp as I left Ruby's, but it didn't matter since I had to swim over to Dayport through the Canal again. The curfew was now in full effect and I found it quite invigorating having to duck into dark corners every time a patrol came stomping past._

_Strength was slowly returning to my limbs, even though they were still sore, especially my wounded leg, but at least I wasn't at the brink of collapsing under my own weight anymore._

_This made it much easier for me to evade the City Watch but most importantly it meant Charlotte would lose some of her control over me. I had no choice but to rely on her when I could barely move myself and had no safe place to stay, but once I return to peak physical condition our situation could easily reverse. Of course I can't rely on brute strength alone to defeat her, but it will certainly give me an advantage._

_First things first though, I still have to find out what all of this was about and that means I have to go back to the apartment to meet her. It is not an encounter I look forward to._

Garrett approached the front of a ladies clothing store, only a few blocks away from his new safe house. A City Watch patrol had passed this way only a moment ago and Garrett saw that they had now begun tacking up wanted posters to shop front doors and walls.

He tore down the one before him and retreated to the shadows to examine it. He held it so as to catch a glimmer of moonlight and grimaced at his poorly sketched likeness. The only thing they seemed to get completely accurate was his mechanical eye, and it glared menacingly at him from the page. It was enough for anyone to recognize him though; his eye was one of a kind in the City.

The price on his head was the biggest shock of all. A bounty was nothing new to Garrett, for the longest time no other criminal had come close to achieving the same reward for capture as he, but this new price was beyond belief.

One hundred thousand gold pieces for his capture; dead or alive. Also, with the promise of an equally fat reward for anyone willing to offer genuine information as to his whereabouts, Garrett wondered who was footing the bill for this reward. The City Watch had never mustered that kind of money before in the past, but then again no-one had ever escaped from Pavelock Prison before. More worryingly though, which of his old acquaintances would be the first to try and turn him in. Would Tupper try something, even if it risked exposing him as more than a mere goldsmith. He didn't know where Garrett was exactly, but Benji did. Who was Benji more loyal to, Charlotte or his Uncle, his own blood? The thought made Garrett incredibly nervous. What if the Watch were at the safe house already?

Printed beneath the reward notice was the same proclamation Garrett and Charlotte had heard the night before. The promise of death for anyone found to aid or conspire with Garrett. As Garrett crushed the poster in his hand he wondered again at Charlotte's motivation to help him. Sure she had risked her life breaking into Pavelock to save him, but this was so much worse. The whole City could turn against him now; he had left Ruby's not a moment too soon. He liked the old whore, but for that amount of gold anyone would turn against him, especially with the threat of death if they harbored him. Money or death, not a hard choice to make.

Charlotte had heard the proclamation last night and had still dragged him to the safe house, he had not thought about the significance of that until now. What was so important she would risk her own life? Not for him he was certain, but something he could offer her. He shook his head and stuffed the poster into his belt pouch. No point trying to figure Charlotte out, better to just go and ask her.

He made his way back onto the street and hurried cautiously toward the safe house. He waited in shadows opposite the townhouse until he was certain he could see no evidence of the City Watch nearby. He could spy no shadowy figures lurking in wait in the buildings next door or the alleyways below. Faint light flickered from the living room window high above, but he could not make out any guards within.

He hurriedly crossed the street, his muscles taut, ready at any moment to dash off into the shadows should he see any sign of ambush. He made his way safely into the townhouse and up the stairs to the apartment, silent as creeping death as he moved to the front door.

Garrett turned the handle to see if it was locked, but the door easily swung open. Not the best sign and he waited breathlessly to see if any guards would give themselves away. All he needed was to hear the slightest rustle of clothing or shifting of booted feet and he would be gone. They never came and he decided to gamble on further inspection. The lights were out in the entry hall and he padded quietly over the carpet, bringing his hand to lightly rest on his sword hilt. He paused at the door to the living room, letting the wall shield his body as he peered around the side. The electric wall lights were on, but had been dimmed to give the room ample shadows and so it was imbued with the flickering yellow light that spread out from the fireplace. Candles had been lit and set on the table where once again fresh food and wine had been left out for him. The shifting flames of the fire cast dancing shadows on the walls and Garrett was about to enter the room when he caught a reflection in the window.

He almost hadn't seen the cloaked shade seated in the same armchair by the window that Benji had occupied a few hours earlier. Now that he concentrated Garrett could see part of Charlotte's face reflected in the window as she gazed out at the moonlit streets below and the chair was set at an angle that allowed him to make out her silhouette. The eyes of her reflection moved as he entered the room but otherwise she remained still, her arms and legs crossed as she reclined in the chair. She did not turn her head to look at him and Garrett wondered if she had heard him the minute he opened the door.

The room seemed to hold its breath as Garrett stood by the table, the water from the canal still dripping in beads from his cloak onto the carpet. A log of wood in the fireplace cracked and popped, breaking the tense silence.

"Good evening, Garrett." Charlotte's tone was very formal, her voice soft and calm. But there was an edge to it that made the hairs on Garrett's neck tingle.

"Milady." He replied without any trace of mockery, he didn't want to push his luck right now. He relaxed enough to return to the front door and close it quietly, locking it from the inside. He unstrapped the sword from around his waist and shucked his bow and arrows onto the couch when he returned to the living room.

"So the City Watch have not found us here yet then." He spoke mostly to break the uncomfortable silence.

"We are safe here." She chided him, as though he was a great fool even to doubt her. He pulled the bounty notice from his pouch and flattened it out on the table before holding it up for her to see. She did not turn but regarded it's reflection in the window.

"Yes, I've seen it, it changes nothing."

"I wish I had your confidence, you obviously feel that Benji can be trusted." He was treated only with silence as her reflected gaze returned to the streets below.

Garrett moved one of the dining chairs to the fireplace and slung his cloak over it. With the heat emanating from the fire it wouldn't take long for his clothes to dry out at all. Though he started to wonder why he should bother since he was making a habit of traveling by water these days. Charlotte remained stony-faced as Garrett pulled his boots off and unbound the dagger from his thigh. He couldn't fathom what was going through her mind at the moment, did her silence indicate that she was angry, or was she sulking?

"I'm afraid the broth might be cold by now." Charlotte announced in an overly-polite tone and Garrett looked to the insulated clay pot on the table.

_'She's definately angry.'_ Garrett smiled to himself, knowing that what she really meant to say was that she had been kept waiting a long time for him. He fetched another chair and continued to arrange his clothes in front of the fire, letting the heat bake his bare skin, driving the chill from his bones.

"Benji was rather upset this evening. I don't expect the two of you to be friends, but I _do_ expect you both to behave like professionals." She sounded slightly exasperated, making Garrett even more pleased with himself; he was tired of her haughty manners.

"He doesn't know anything so please stop threatening him." He merely grunted in reply to her remark and she let out a long sigh as she pushed herself up from the armchair. She flung her cloak over her back as she turned to him, her hands planted firmly on her hips.

"He's just doing what he's paid…" She stopped short as two red spots bloomed on her cheeks. Garrett was hunched over the chairs arranging his clothes and he stretched to his full height. Charlotte's instinctive reaction was to turn her back to him but she caught herself half way and took a calming breath. Garrett watched with increasing amusement as her jaw set into a hard line of determination and she turned back to face him. Her eyes sparkled from sheer force of will as she stood before him, defiantly refusing to be embarrassed by his nakedness; any good noblewoman ought to faint at the mere suggestion. Garrett noted that she kept her eyes level with his, not wavering for an instant or attempting a sly inspection.

He allowed himself a smirk, he was pleased to have put her on the back foot and he wasn't afraid to show it. Let her put up her noble facades and try to hide the plots twisting through her mind. She had almost fooled him into forgetting that under the posturing she was just a sheltered young noblewoman. She had probably never seen a naked man before in her life.

'_Though I suppose she might have seen her **dear** Captain Dorleac.' _Garrett's upper lip twitched with disgust as he thought of the dashing Captain. Charlotte cleared her throat and interrupted his thoughts.

"I've brought thread and ointments for your leg." She was working hard to keep her voice level and Garrett couldn't believe this was the same woman he had observed only a few nights earlier, holding a dozen men enthralled and slaves to her slightest whim.

"I've already had it taken care of." Garrett motioned down toward his thigh but Charlotte did not shift her gaze. She merely inclined her head and gave him a tight smile.

"I see. Very good then." She managed to reply, trying to scramble together some composure. "I'm pleased to see you are somewhat resourceful." She chided him at last and without any hint of a waver in her voice. Charlotte arched her eyebrows, assuming a well-practiced look of disdain.

"And put something on for goodness sake." She shook her head and resumed her seat by the window. Garrett smiled briefly; he couldn't help but admire her self-control. It was going to take drastic measures to crack her icy composure. He was convinced he could rise to the challenge.

He strolled to the bathroom and found a dry towel to wrap around his waist before he sat down at the table to eat the food she had brought him. The broth was still quite warm and Garrett tore up large chunks of bread to dip into it.

"So what was so important that you couldn't wait here as I had asked?" Charlotte actually sounded quite curious and was looking at him directly now, instead of his reflection in the window. Garrett paused to wash his food down with a mouthful of wine before he brazenly answered her question.

"I went to a brothel." The corner of Charlotte's mouth twisted disapprovingly and Garrett felt a warm glow of smug triumph spread through him.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you that the entire City is on alert," she waved toward the wanted poster, "they want to lynch you. And you casually wander out to satisfy your base urges." She did not attempt to conceal the contempt in her voice; in fact she seemed to exaggerate it. Garrett decided not to react to her clear attempts to provoke him. Looking back it occurred to him that she seemed to take a perverse pleasure in getting a rise out of him, as though every time he lost his temper she proved that he was nothing more than a stupid thug off the streets. He was so much more than that and it was going to be a huge shock to her.

"It's not important." He replied, keeping his cool. "You however are supposed to be giving me an explanation for all your interference in my affairs." He pointed an accusing finger at her and she sighed with mock dismay.

"I'm not sure I have time now." She replied pointedly.

"In a hurry to be somewhere else?" Garrett asked archly. "Are you afraid your Captain might find you missing when he comes to give you a goodnight kiss?" He had meant only to tease her about her lover but he found the words turned sour in his mouth almost becoming a spiteful growl.

Charlotte reclined back into the shadows but Garrett imagined he could feel the heat of her glaring eyes. He set aside the remaining wine in his mug, deciding that he ought to keep his wits about him. He wondered if she would ever lose her temper if he teased her enough.

'_See how she likes it for a change_.' He smirked to himself before taking a bite of his dinner; he'd love to see her lose control just once.

"I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from discussing my private affairs." Charlotte sounded quite bored with his conversation. He supposed it must be quite a trial for her, having to put up with a boor like him, unable to supply the kind of witty anecdotes and refined tête-à-têtes she was probably spoilt with.

"Hmm, affairs indeed." He jibed softly not wanting to pass up the opportunity to torment her. Garrett had not expected his taunt to have a major effect on Charlotte but she shot out of her chair as though she had been launched from a catapult. She stood with her fists clenched and her arms held rigidly by her sides.

"How dare you." She hissed dangerously at him. Garrett blinked with surprise; it would seem he had hit a nerve. "I have risked everything to help you and you treat me with such disrespect!" He could see the rage welling inside her; it would appear she was angered by more than just his taunts about Captain Dorleac. But more than angered, she looked disappointed, hurt even.

"I treat _you_ with contempt?" Garrett spat back with indignation. "I think you've got things a little mixed up here." He couldn't believe she was accusing him of such things after the way she had been behaving. "What makes you think you're better than me? You're the one that acts so disdainful, you damn spoilt child!" Garrett knew he should not lose his temper but remain calm and prove that he was the mature and rational one here, but the woman was so bloody frustrating. Charlotte was visibly taken aback by his reprimand.

"You, you!" Charlotte could barely speak, her fists shook with rage and she uttered a groan of frustration. "The Trickster take you Garrett!" She cursed him vehemently and stormed toward the apartment door. Garrett slammed his palms against the table as he leapt from his chair and caught hold of her as she tried to sweep past him, throwing her against the wall before he pinned himself against her.

"He already tried and I killed the bastard. I'd do the same and worse to anyone that tried to get in my way." He growled at her menacingly.

"Unhand me you rogue!" She commanded in her best lady-of-the-manor tone.

"_You_ invaded my life; _you_ put yourself in this position." He felt all his anger and resentment for her interference bubbling uncontrollably to the surface. Charlotte pursed her lips defiantly as she struggled to free her wrists from his vice-like grip. Garrett found he had to fight quite hard to keep her arms pinned though his anger had given him some amount of renewed strength. The sheer dead weight of his body was also more than enough to keep her trapped against the wall. He treated her to his most contemptible and dangerous sneer. "Consider yourself fortunate that I've treated you with as much respect as I have. I've little love or patience for the nobility." She watched him silently, processing all that he said to her, her breathing steady as she waited for her opportunity to break free.

It was clear she had decided her best approach was to wait for his anger to abate. In fact just watching her regain her calm composure, to see her calculating mind at work he found his anger at her quickly dwindled. There was also something about being this close to her that he found both soothing, yet invigorating. No-one else had ever made him lose his cool in this way, no matter what danger he faced, he always remained calm, always thinking, always looking for an escape or an advantage.

She was still watching him shrewdly and Garrett realized just how dangerous she really was, not just because he couldn't control her, but because he couldn't control himself. Garrett sighed raggedly and eased the pressure of his weight against her. She did not move, waiting patiently until she was assured of escape.

Garrett took a quiet moment to survey her features; he had not really had the opportunity to get a good look at her in decent light. She lowered her gaze under his intense scrutiny and Garrett found himself transfixed by her long, black lashes. When she blushed it brought such a glow to her pale complexion.

'_She looks so much better all red and flustered as opposed to that Ice Queen mask she always tries to wear.'_

Garrett did not entirely understand what he felt but all he knew was that he could not bear the thought of her in the arms of another man. It seemed to him that she fit so perfectly against him as he leant his weight onto her again. He thought back to that night in her room at Highfort. Of how she had melted against Dorleac as they had kissed. Something began to burn deep inside Garrett, a jealousy he had never experienced before. He wanted her to look at him with the same longing gaze she had shared with the Captain.

He sighed again, knowing it was impossible that she could ever care about him in that way, she would not want to be with scum like him. Yet was it possible that she had lost her temper because she also suffered mixed feelings for him. Garrett scolded himself for even bearing such a hope but now that he had entertained the notion he couldn't shake it.

"I think after all the trouble you have caused; you ought to make it up to me."

Charlotte looked up at him, shocked by the craving in his expression. He saw the heat flush into Charlotte's cheeks and fear briefly flickered in her eyes as she

apprehended his intent.

"You. Wouldn't. Dare." She threatened, her fingers curving to look like claws as blazing defiance replaced the fear in her gaze. Garrett was glad he had managed to trap her arms now; the thought of those talon-like hands getting anywhere near his flesh was not a pleasant prospect. For all her bravado however she was blushing deeply and her breath had quickened. He could feel her breast heaving against him, the pulse in her wrists racing.

"I am a villain Milady, I take whatever I desire." He brought his face closer to hers so that their noses were almost touching and let her feel his hungry, hot breath.

"Then I am fortunate that all you desire is gold." She shot back breathlessly, her jaw set with determination. Garrett chuckled, her barb was well aimed but he wasn't going to let her off so easily.

"Not all treasures are made of gold." He whispered softly in her ear, lingering to inhale the scent of her hair and nuzzle at her soft neck. Garrett realized he was going too far this time but he didn't care anymore. It was clear he was having some sort of an effect on her, whether it was the kind he wanted he wasn't sure, but it was something at least.

"You're shaking. Are you scared?" He snickered softly as he brought his eyes level with hers again. "Or excited?"

"Do not mistake me for some cheap harlot." She snarled; her voice low and throaty. Garrett realized what she said was true, even if she did feel something for him, she would not allow herself to give in to those emotions. Not as long as she was in love with Dorleac at any rate. He wouldn't be able to get what he wanted from her without using force and villain though he was Garrett did not want her in that manner. Yet at the same time he did still want to hurt her so much, revenge burned as deeply within him as his desire.

'_Captain Dorleac, he's the key to all of this.' _Garrett mused to himself, there had to be a way to rid himself of the competition. He had to learn more about their relationship.

"I think you are scared. Afraid of what your sweetheart might think." Garrett mocked her playfully. "Then again he probably knows you quite intimately."

"My honor is intact!" For the first time, Charlotte sounded genuinely insulted.

"It's not your honor I'm talking about." He gave her a sly wink, knowing full well that what he was insinuating was untrue. From Charlotte's reaction Garrett was fairly certain now that Dorleac had never actually bedded her.

Charlotte grunted with exasperation and bucked her body against him, managing to wrest one of her hands free. He ducked as her hand clumsily swiped past his face before he managed to catch hold of it again as she struggled against him.

"So you _do_ beat your servants after all?" Garrett crowed triumphantly as Charlotte panted from her exertions.

"I thought, "She ground out between her teeth, "we were business partners." Garrett chuckled in surprise at her response and soon found himself guffawing loudly. He released her hands and stepped away from her.

"Quite right, Milady." Garrett gave her a polite half bow and swept his hand toward her armchair to indicate that she should resume her seat. Charlotte rubbed at her reddened wrists and eyed Garrett warily. She shook her head slowly, watching him with concern and puzzlement as he returned to his seat at the table.

"You don't understand, Garrett." She muttered quietly, still rubbing her wrists. He looked up from the table and realized there were tears welling in her eyes. "You just don't understand." Garrett sat dumbly in shock as she fled from the living room. He heard the lock turn in the door and half rose from his chair but could not catch her this time, the door slamming shut behind her.

Garrett's mouth hung agape, he had not expected this reaction from Charlotte. Nor did he understand what her lasts words to him had meant. He didn't understand about her and Dorleac? Somehow he didn't think that was what she had meant. He looked back at the empty space she had occupied moments ago and a cold knot twisted in his gut as he slumped back into his seat.

"Damn." He muttered, realizing he had just alienated the one person standing between him and the City Watch. "I've got to get out of here now."

Garrett dashed from the table to the fireplace. He was right about the fire drying his clothes quickly; it was only his cloak that was still damp in places. He donned his shirt and trousers and sat down to pull his boots back on. Next the hood was thrust over his head followed by a light leather jerkin. He was strapping his gear back onto his body when he heard the front door swing open. In one fluid motion he pulled his sword from its sheath and leapt toward the entryway, flattening himself against the wall. He peered around the corner, his sword at the ready and stopped short when he saw the figure standing in the shadows of the entry hall. Charlotte's cloaked figure was an image ingrained into his memory from when he still knew her only as the Fox. He would recognize her anywhere but at the moment he couldn't fathom why she was standing there.

Slowly she stepped forward into the living room and Garrett backed up, keeping his sword defensively before him. Charlotte looked determined and there was a rage simmering in her dark eyes that put Garrett on edge. He didn't seriously think she had come back to kill him, but he knew he couldn't rely on his instincts when it came to Charlotte.

"Garrett I…" She began to speak, but her words were constricted as though she couldn't bear to utter them. She closed her eyes, took a calming breath and began to speak again. "I have come back to apologize for treating you so disdainfully."

Garrett was so stunned he nearly dropped his sword. He couldn't believe she would have ever come back here without a hundred armed guards and intent on killing him. For her to be standing before him and humbling herself in this way he couldn't comprehend it.

"I have not appreciated how things must seem to you. That I am nothing but a nuisance, I nearly got you killed." Charlotte swept past him toward the fireplace and he turned to watch her as she warmed her hands before it. "I said it myself, you simply don't understand. But that is my fault, not yours." She turned around one of the chairs he had placed before the fire and eased herself onto it. "I am so used to being with people who trust my judgment. They don't need me to tell them why they must do something. They simply trust that I have a good reason to ask it of them." She sighed softly, her back to him and he almost missed her next words as she muttered to herself. "You frustrate me so much."

Garrett returned his sword to its sheath and took the chair beside her. He tried very hard not to smile triumphantly at her admission that he had gotten to her as much as she annoyed him. He did not try to interrupt her but let her speak freely, taking it all in silently.

"I realize now that I have expected too much from you, too soon. I have not explained myself to you sufficiently and for that I am sorry. It is just that I have watched you for such a long time." She blushed now at this admission and could not look at him. "I suppose I felt like I knew you when clearly I do not." She smiled wistfully and shook her head. "You're not what I imagined at all." Charlotte laughed ruefully and rubbed at her forehead with one hand, partially hiding her face.

Garrett surmised that this was an unconscious action of embarrassment for Charlotte. What a strange night this had become, it seemed only a moment ago he thought he could never break through her icy composure. Yet this eve he had seen her angry, almost in tears and now apologetic, admitting she had been observing him a long time. The idea of her spying on him was equally disturbing and flattering.

"However…" A warning edge was in her voice and Garrett watched her closely. "If you ever, _ever_ dare to touch me again, or threaten me as you did tonight." She paused to be sure she had his complete attention, uncertain now that he was wearing his hood again. "Do not think I will hesitate to have you destroyed."

Garrett leant back into his chair to muse over what she said. He had liked her more and more as she had been apologizing to him. He'd almost forgotten how much he wanted to hurt her.

'_Now she sounds like her old self.' _He despised the fact that she thought, just because she was rich she could have him killed on a whim. He resented that she would try and use this to control him; to flaunt her supposed power over him in such a way. '_Why does she have to be so damned arrogant?' _Charlotte was watching him expectantly and Garrett nodded his assent to her demands.

"Of course, Milady." He spoke without any hint of sarcasm or anger, for now it was his mind that schemed secretly, it was his turn to hide what he truly felt and thought. "So why don't you explain it all to me then, help me to understand you." He spoke as gently as he could muster; asking nicely for something was completely new to him. Charlotte seemed pleased enough with his request and turned in her chair to face him directly.

"I know that to begin with, you will not understand how you fit into all of this, but please be patient and hear me out." Garrett nodded and Charlotte took a breath to continue her tale. "When I was a little girl the Steward of Highfort was a man named James Ellison. He was an educated, intelligent man and my father had absolute faith in James, as did I." Charlotte's face lit up with genuine affection at the memory of this man.

"When I was born it was decided that James would serve as my tutor, my mentor. Who better to teach me the duties required of the heir to Rois-Dores than the man who ran the estate and advised my father daily? Steward was merely the best title he could ever be granted, but he was so much more than that. He was like a second father, one that always had time for me." She looked down at the floor as though ashamed to speak her next words. "Unlike my real parents."

"James taught me everything I know about running a large household, about politics, history, religion, commerce; he was well versed in all things." Charlotte cocooned herself in her long cloak, settling further into her chair as the fire and happy memories warmed her. "Some things he taught me were secret, skills I could never let anyone know I had learnt. He taught me to blend with the shadows, to move silently and find things that were hidden." Charlotte looked at Garrett expectantly. "Did you not question Garrett, how a woman of my station learns to sneak and steal undetected?"

"I had wondered." He replied mechanically, a sense of unease settling over him, he wasn't sure he liked where this was heading.

"It never occurred to me to wonder how James knew these things, I was only still a child and all I cared about was perfecting my skills to earn his approval. It is only until recent years that I have realized what he was teaching me and I have tried to understand the reason and significance of it. I think he was trying to prepare me for the inevitable." Charlotte's smile faded, her pleasant memoirs at an end.

"You are not the first person to have broken into Highfort Garrett. The difference is that I _know_ how you got in and out." This did surprise Garrett, it was generally accepted that no-one had ever breached their security. But then his break-in had also been so well hushed up that no general public knew about it. "One morning, four years ago, I awoke and found the house in uproar. James could not be found." Charlotte paused and Garrett could see her hands wringing the fabric of her cloak as she frowned. "There was blood and signs of a struggle in his bedroom. "

"For a time during the investigation the remaining servants and soldiers were suspected of the murder, but we couldn't fathom a reason why anyone would have killed him. And furthermore, if they had then where was the body? I bided my time until I could search his room alone. Somehow I knew that there had to be a clue there, something that only I would find, because only I truly knew him. I did find it, a hidden compartment into which he had placed notes and old parchments marked with strange inscriptions. These only puzzled me further, as I could not decipher them and the notes he had made simply didn't make any sense to me."

"Since that time I have dedicated myself to seeking the answer to his disappearance. I have worked hard in secret with Jan to learn all I could about weaponry and combat, because I knew James' lessons of stealth would get me only so far." Garrett's ears perked up at this tidbit. Perhaps she didn't actually love the Captain and was just using him, as she used others. Did her affections buy his silence? "I consulted with every learned person I could find who might be able to decipher the strange writing in the parchments I found, or who could tell me what James had so feverishly written about in his journal. Bit by bit I have managed to scramble the pieces together and reached a level of understanding." Charlotte gazed at Garrett fiercely; there was a deep hatred in her for the person that had taken James. "I believe it wasn't just one person that took him, I think there is a whole group of people out there, who live in the shadows, watching what we do and manipulating events in our world. " Garrett's breath caught in his throat, his gut instinct had been right. But Charlotte had to be mistaken; surely someone had set her down the wrong path. Keepers did not kidnap and murder people.

"The things I have learned are terrifying, to know what these people have had a hand in, the destruction they have almost wrought upon all of us. I know now that at one point James was one of them, but he abandoned them because he no longer shared their vision. He wanted to put a stop to them, but he couldn't do it alone, he didn't have the means, but he knew I would." Her voice rose with intensity, Garrett could see this was a quest that had consumed her every waking moment for years and she was determine dot see it through to the end.

"I have the money, the connections, the skills and most importantly the secrecy. They did not know he had been training me; otherwise they would have taken me that night too. But he left me the clues I needed and ultimately they have led me to you. You are the key to everything, because like James you also used to be one of them, I know you were a Keeper." Her tone became accusatory and Garrett realized her body was incredibly tense. He knew she was gauging his reaction, to know where his old loyalties lie. Was he a good man like her James, or was he still an evil Keeper, her enemy.

"Yes I was trained by the Keepers, but I never shared their ideals." Garrett spoke calmly and pulled back his hood so she could see the truth in his eyes. She relaxed slightly and Garrett wondered what she might have done had he declared his allegiance to the Keepers. "But I still don't see how that makes me of any use to you." Charlotte shook her head at him as though his purpose ought to be clear.

"They have not reined you in; they have not killed you or locked you away, because they believe you are the one from their prophecies. You are the one that can help me find James if he is still alive, and destroy the Keeper's if he is not." Her face became dark with thoughts of revenge and while Garrett did not love the Keepers he did pity them for incurring the wrath of this woman. Yet something about this did not sit right with Garrett. While he did not share their ideals he still knew the Keepers intimately, he knew how they operated.

"You're not as secret as you think." Garrett began and Charlotte's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "If you have heard of the Keepers then I guarantee they know about you. Very little happens in the City that they do not know. They probably even know where we are." Charlotte's eyes widened with alarm.

"They couldn't possibly, I have been so careful. Are you certain?" She began to rise from her chair and Garrett reached out to stop her. Charlotte glared at him, dodging away from his hand easily. Garrett pulled back and held his hands up near his head, to show her he meant no harm. She eyed him warily and Garrett realized his actions earlier this evening had affected her more deeply than he had suspected.

"If they meant you harm," He began, trying to soothe her, "they would have acted long before now." His words helped her relax. "They're probably curious more than anything. They want to see what you will do."

"How can you be so certain of what the Keepers will and won't do?" Her distrust of him clearly still nagged at Charlotte.

"Don't look at me like that, you've obviously already worked out that I have no love of, or allegiance to the Keepers, otherwise we wouldn't be here. So sit down." There was no anger in his tone, simply a direct order. Charlotte blinked at him, unaccustomed to being commanded by anyone but she slowly settled into her chair. Garrett was equally surprised that she had complied. "I know the Keepers, I know how they think. I lived with them for years. They're probably scheming to turn your pursuit of them to their advantage. Or worse yet, there might be a prophecy about it." Garrett grimaced at the idea.

"So… are we safe here?" There was no fear in Charlotte's features; she looked ready to fight at any moment.

"They will find us no matter where we go. So yes, we are as _safe_ as we can hope to be. I don't think they would turn us in for the bounty either." Garrett knew how little Keepers cared for money, which was the main reason he quit the Order.

"Hmph, the bounty." Charlotte grumbled. "Don't worry about that, it'll be gone by tomorrow night." Garrett looked at her quizzically and Charlotte gifted him with a lop-sided smirk. "I can be very persuasive."

"You don't think the City Watch will wonder why you're interested in helping me." Charlotte had managed to surprise Garrett once again; she seemed to be constantly putting her neck on the line for him. Although he knew now it wasn't exactly him she was doing it for. It was for James.

"I know how to deal with the City Watch; I will have to give them an alternate solution. It may not help you, either of us, at all in the end, but it will get the general public off our backs." Her brow knit and she was lost in thought for a moment. "The night passes too quickly, I must go." Charlotte rose from her chair and Garrett stood with her. She tried to do it surreptitiously but he could see that she was sure to keep him at arms length. He was going to have to work very hard to re-establish her trust. Charlotte turned back to him as she reached the door to the living room.

"So Garrett, shall we be _partners_?" Her mouth twitched with a slight grin, but Garrett ignored her mockery.

"You know me, if the money is right…" It wasn't only the money he wanted, but let her think that for now. "I will help you find James, or what happened to him. Destroying the Keepers, that's another matter entirely." Garrett was sure he didn't want anything to do with such an endeavor. The Keepers seemed harmless enough, but he didn't fancy the idea of provoking them.

"We will start with James then. I will return tomorrow, before sunset." Charlotte gave him a pointed look, she expected him to be here this time. "Goodnight, Garrett."

"Goodnight." He inclined his head, as close to a bow as she could ever hope from him. She left the apartment without another word and Garrett checked the door after she was gone to be sure it was locked. He returned to the window in the living room and gazed down at the street.

"Keepers." He spat the word. Garrett knew he had told Charlotte the truth, he had no doubt the Keepers were watching them. They were always watching Garrett. They'd brought him nothing but trouble since he had forsaken them. Maybe the time had come for him to return favor.


	14. Into the Lion's Den

Wicked deceits of manfools,  
Blackens the festered sky with griefs,  
Sorrow tears our goodsie green flesh,  
Brings it shrieks of leaf, wilts of lilacs,  
For dances no more the Woodsie One.  
Cries us in anger, yearns us for their shredded fleshes,  
We pays them in pain and thistled embraces,  
And piles their falsie bones on our Lord's greensie tomb.  
_--Lament for the Woodsie Lord._

_Keepers. Would I never be free of their meddling? Seems my gut instincts about Charlotte were right, I knew she was bad news. I'm sure someone else must have an agenda that has led Charlotte astray. Keepers certainly aren't in the habit of killing people. _

_I still don't know what she needs me for. Tracking down old men who are likely dead isn't my specialty. I know better than to meddle with the departed. I should probably head for the slums in Wayside and lay low until this whole thing blows over._

_I should… but Charlotte has offered me a lot of coin. There's also something else that I owe her. It wouldn't be right for me to not pay her back. _

Garrett's eyes flickered open and he lay motionless in bed, trying to discern whether he had actually heard the front door open or if he had only dreamt it.

"It's only me." He heard the intruder call from the entry and he rolled over in bed with a groan. Benji shuffled toward the bedroom and tentatively poked his head around the doorway. Garrett glared at him with one drowsy eye.

"To what do I owe this early pleasure?" Garrett grumbled, he knew it could not be mid-morning yet, far too early for a nocturnal prowler like him to be awake.

"I'm under instruction. I'm to give you this bundle and this sealed letter." Benji held up both before tossing the bundle onto the end of the bed. Garrett raised himself on one elbow and stretched out his hand for the letter. Benji kept as far from Garrett as possible as he handed over the message. Garrett smiled humorlessly. He didn't care if Benji was intimidated, but it reminded him of how twitchy Charlotte was around him now.

"I brought you food as well." Benji added as Garrett broke the wax seal on the letter and folded it open. Benji continued hovering expectantly, craning his neck to try and see what the letter said. "And your old clothes too, their all cleaned." Garrett closed the letter so Benji could not see it and did not look up at the boy.

"Get out." He commanded sharply and Benji backed out of the room, his mouth twisted petulantly. Garrett waited until he heard Benji close the front door behind him before he re-opened the letter and read it.

_Garrett,  
After our discussion last night I realized that it is unfair of me to expect you to trust me if I do not place equal trust in you. I have decided to take the first step by giving you the opportunity to expose and ruin me. Today I am placing myself into your hands and in turn you will be put into mine.  
You say that you want us to be partners, if this is the case then I expect you to be a part of all my dealings from here on in. If you want equality then you shall have it, but you must also bear some of the responsibilities… and the risks.  
If you feel up to the task then in this bundle you will find civilian clothing, a disguise. Most importantly there is a Rois-Dores crest. You must not let Benji see this, nor may he read the contents of this letter.  
Dress yourself and await me near the Clock tower at the Midday tolling. When you see me, do try to be deferential, but above all have faith in me.  
I have faith that you will not fail me._

_Charlotte_

Garrett quirked an eyebrow as he finished the letter, wondering what Charlotte had in mind. He did not think that her intent was simply for them to be seen together in a public and very crowded place. He swung out of bed and padded into the lounge room. Last night's fire was smoldering in the hearth and he threw the letter onto the coals, watching it shrivel up and burn. He prodded at the remains with the poker to be sure there was no shred of evidence and wondered why Charlotte was keeping secrets from Benji. He had always assumed that Benji and Charlotte were tightly knit. The boy had protected her no matter how violently Garrett had threatened him, that sort of loyalty was rarely bought with coin. Maybe Charlotte was trying to protect Benji; if he didn't know anything then Garrett couldn't force him to betray Charlotte. Garrett shook his head, Charlotte's actions were too unpredictable and he had no chance of figuring out her motives at this early stage.

'_I need more time to observe her; sooner or later a pattern will emerge.'_ He thought as he gave the coals a final prod and returned to the bedroom. The bundle had been bound so tightly that there was no chance Benji could have peeked into it. Garrett took up his dagger and cut at the strings wrapped around it. He unfurled what turned out to be a threadbare cloak and inside he found rough spun trousers and a shirt. There was also a pair of well worn shoes and a skull cap. In such non-descript clothing Garrett could have passed for a humble tradesman if his face hadn't been plastered all over the City on wanted posters.

Charlotte had clearly thought of this and had included an eye patch and false moustache. Garrett rolled his eyes, he had his doubts that it would be enough to fool anyone; he knew from experience that fake hair ultimately looked fake when worn. But there was one more item that gave him hope. Compared to the rest of the clothes the dark blue tunic was well crafted, but still simple enough that it would not look too strange on him. Most importantly, sewn onto the breast was the Rois-Dores crest. Upon seeing that most people wouldn't even bother looking at his face, they would simply accept that he was someone to be respected and obeyed.

He gathered up all the clothes and made for the bathroom where he hurriedly dressed and set about attaching the fake moustache. Garrett realized it was actually made from real human hair and it didn't look half as ridiculous as the fake beards he had tried in the past. At least Charlotte never skimped on the important things. He hated the eye patch though and the uncomfortable way it pressed his mechanical eye against the back of his eye socket. He carefully removed the eye and wrapped it up in a small wash cloth for safe keeping.

Garrett surveyed himself in the bathroom mirror, unconvinced that this disguise would work, but he supposed that most people would not recognize him and certainly not expect to see him out during the day. He checked the small clock that sat upon the mantle in the lounge room. He would have to scramble to make it to Stonemarket before the Midday bells tolled. He returned to the bedroom to retrieve his dagger, blackjack and coin purse. He tucked the purse inside his tunic and had to strap the dagger to his leg, hiding it beneath the ragged trousers. The blackjack he hung from the back of his belt where it lay concealed by the cloak. As he rushed from the apartment he grabbed a bread roll from the basket of food Benji had left and a wedge of cheese. He munched on the food as he made his way through Dayport, trying to settle his nerves as he approached the gate to Auldale.

The three Watchmen guarding the gate scrutinized him warily but as their eyes fell upon the crest on his tunic they relaxed and gave him a courteous nod. Garrett returned their salute and made his way over the canal trying hard not to sneer. He couldn't believe how easy that had been. The City Watch was in a frenzy to find him and yet he had just fooled three of them without even trying. He wasn't going to get too cocky but already he was feeling much more confident about his meeting with Charlotte. He was actually looking forward to seeing her, he wanted to believe that he was simply curious to know what she was scheming today but he couldn't deny that he longed to be near to her again. Garrett silently vowed that he would do anything he could to gain her trust, to repair the damage he had caused last night. It was imperative that she trusted him, that she felt comfortable enough around him to let her guard down.

He garnered more stares as he wandered the neatly paved streets of Auldale. They were mostly looks of disdain from the richly dressed inhabitants who had nothing better to do with their time but mince about the district trying to out class their neighbors. Garrett fought the urge to cut their purses when they turned their backs on him, noses held high.

'_Charlotte might be arrogant but at least she's not as blindly self-absorbed as these fools.' _Garrett mused as he quickened his pace sparing one last lingering gaze for the fat purses he was letting go. Garrett spied the high arch of the bridge to Stonemarket and the Watch post that blocked his way. He strolled toward the bridge confidently, certain he could bluff his way past these Watch Dogs as easily as the last.

"Not another bloody _Door_-ray." Muttered one of the Watchmen sourly when he spied the crest on Garrett's tunic. He stepped in front of Garrett, blocking the way and looking down on him as though Garrett were something vile he had just scraped off his boot.

"What's that Tol?" Another of the Watchmen asked, turning to see what had angered his comrade. Garrett noticed all the guards had stopped to watch the drama unfold. Some wore the same resentful expressions as the man that had stopped him.

"Didn't Hill tell you, Arn? Bunch of them snooty taffers were about last eve, askin' after that slippery bastard Garrett." Tol glared at Garrett as he spoke and Garrett tried hard to not screw his nose up in disgust at the foul breath that gusted out of the guard. "We don't need you lot sniffing around our business, right?" Garrett dropped his eyes to the ground, trying to affect a look of cowering humility.

"I'm sorry Sir, I'm only a servant, I don't know anything about that." Garrett did not dare meet Tol's eyes because he knew the guard would see the naked loathing in Garrett's gaze.

"Bet you still think your better'n us though, eh?" Tol's eyes roamed over Garrett, he seemed to be mollified yet he still did not step back to let Garrett pass. "Bit scruffy looking aintcha? Even Dorry scrubs wear better clothes'n this." Tol grabbed a handful of Garrett's clothes and gave him a shake, pressing his nose close to Garrett's face. "Where'd you steal this tunic from, eh?" Garrett shook his head but before he could reply two other watchmen had jumped forward to pull Tol off of him.

"Easy Tollin, you're gonna get booted from the Watch if you go around abusing their like." Cautioned the man called Arn. Tol shrugged his restrainers off and spat on the ground at Garrett's feet before disappearing into the Guard house. Garrett made a show of straightening his clothes, brushing imaginary grime off the crest on his tunic.

"Move along citizen." Arn commanded and Garrett was all too happy to oblige. When he was well clear of the Watch Garrett allowed himself a chuckle. He couldn't believe he was pulled up over wearing the Rois-Dores crest, when his greatest fear had been that they'd all immediately recognize him as Garrett the Master thief. The situation was so absurd that by the time he reached the other side of the bridge he was still guffawing. He bet Charlotte wouldn't have anticipated that reaction either. Garrett hoped the confrontation would not be repeated. He would be sure not to return to Dayport by the same route until the Watch shifts had changed.

The foot traffic increased as he neared the Stonemarket Plaza and he could hear the cacophony of human voices growing louder. Charlotte couldn't have picked a busier time of day; the street market was swarming with bodies. Garrett dived into the throng and elbowed toward the Clock tower. He passed the carts of merchants and farmers that traveled to Stonemarket each morning to sell their produce. Every month their stalls became sparser, the produce of poorer quality, as the war took its toll on the farmers. Yet the prices continued to rise. The market was full of people seeking a bargain, either through legal or less savory means.

As Garrett surveyed the crowd of faces he had no trouble identifying the roving pickpockets, no matter how much they tried to appear like honest shoppers. He even caught a glimpse of some of the thieves lifting the prize purse from their mark while the rest of the world remained oblivious. He eased onto a wooden bench at the edge of the Plaza in the shadow of the Clock tower. There was a pair of servants sitting nearby, De Perrin he guessed from their livery, complaining about the lack of variety at the market.

The Clock tower began to chime the Midday hour and Garrett scanned the crowd for any sign of Charlotte. He did not know what to expect, he assumed she would arrive as herself, but maybe she had decided to come incognito.

'_Maybe the crest was just to give me easy passage to Stonemarket.'_ Garrett barked with laughter at how well that had gone down. The De Perrin scrubs glanced at him before exchanging a silent look of alarm and shifted to a bench further away.

"Hey Ned, it's her." Garrett saw a scruffy young boy nudge his equally grimy companion. The latter, Ned, was trying to lift a loaf of bread from a baker's cart. He forgot the loaf entirely and turned to where the first boy was pointing. Ned let out a sharp whistle and suddenly a half dozen more urchins appeared. Garrett craned his neck to see who they had targeted and was surprised to see Charlotte. All eyes in the market had fixated upon her, she practically smelled of money. Garrett could tell that by Charlotte's standards she had dressed rather plainly yet she still put the surroundings to shame with her resplendence.

She was flanked on either side by a guard; Garrett recognized one of them from the night of the break-in, Lieutenant Gratis. Behind her were the blonde girl Hayley and another older serving woman he didn't know. The waifs rushed toward Charlotte and Ned, clearly the leader of the pack, gave her a respectful bow which the others tried to mimic.

"Sweet Lady." He flattered as Charlotte greeted him with an affectionate grin.

"Little Ned." She replied. "How are you? How is your father?"

"I'm good Milady and Da's much better. That medicine you got for us did the trick. He says he might be able to go back to work in a day or so." Ned reached inside his ragged shirt and Gratis jumped forward, clapping an iron hand on the boy's shoulder. Charlotte took hold of the Lieutenant's arm as Ned shrank away in fear.

"Meaning no harm, sir." Ned uttered desperately as he pulled out a shawl and held it up for Charlotte. "Me Ma made it, to thank you for all you done for us. She said she's sorry that it's not so grand a gift as Milady is used to." Ned blushed with embarrassment as Gratis let him go and Charlotte took the proffered shawl from him.

"What lovely handiwork, its beautiful Ned. Please give her my thanks, I will treasure it." So saying she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, admiring it as though it were a garment fit for a queen. Ned blushed even deeper but beamed with joy nevertheless.

"And how are you Betsy, Roland, Joss, Nell, Eli, Tom, Liam?" She knew each of their names and smiled at each in turn as they stammered their replies.

Garrett could see that Charlotte's retinue watched the ragged bunch with an air of indifference, clearly used to humoring their Lady's tiresome quirks. Only Gratis seemed willing to express his growing impatience and disgust at the exchange.

"Milady, might I remind you that you do have an appointment to keep." Gratis looked over the urchins with disdain. Charlotte waved him off, not allowing him to spoil her good mood.

"Joss!" Charlotte exclaimed. "What happened to your teeth?" The shortest lad put his hand to his mouth to cover the gap where his front teeth should have been.

"I sthlipped over at the docksth." Joss replied shyly. "But iths ok, they were justh my baby teeth."

"What an impish grin it gives you." Charlotte teased him and young Joss hid behind one of the girls as the little street gang laughed at him good naturedly. Charlotte motioned with her hand and Hayley produced a coin purse which she passed to Charlotte. She personally pressed a silver coin into the palm of each child and they thanked her in a fit of bows and curtsies. "Keep it safe." She warned them and they all nodded fervently before scampering off to disappear in the crowd. Only Ned remained and Charlotte favored him by ruffling his tangle of hair.

"Do you really like the shawl?" He asked nervously, drawing another scowl from Gratis for his impertinence. Charlotte bent over so that her eyes were level with Ned's and she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

"It's the most thoughtful gift I've ever had." She replied earnestly. "Now off home with you." Charlotte jerked her head to the side with a playful grin and Ned backed away, seemingly unable to take his eyes from her. He cradled the coin she had given him to his chest and finally turned and vanished in the same manner as his friends.

Garrett stood up from the bench and stepped out from the shadows. Charlotte saw him and blinked mildly in surprise as though she hadn't really expected to see him. Her smile disappeared as she took a moment to compose herself. She straightened her shoulders and swept toward him gracefully.

"Ah, Miloh." She greeted him as though they were old and familiar acquaintances. Garrett managed to give her a stiff bow in return. Her retinue trailed behind her and she turned to Gratis. "You remember Mr. Rance, Lieutenant."

"Actually Milady," Gratis replied, his eyes boring into Garret, "I don't believe we've met before."

"I'm sorry, I thought you had." Charlotte turned to Gratis with wide-eyed surprise. "Lieutenant Gratis this is Miloh Rance." She waved her hand toward Garrett and he gave Gratis a curt nod. "My eyes and ears outside Highfort." Charlotte added conspiratorially.

Gratis returned the nod but did not take his eyes off Garrett. Garrett turned away from him, trying to act casual. The Lieutenant seemed to have taken an instant dislike to him, but from what he had seen, Gratis did not approve of anyone outside of Highfort.

"Milady shall I take care of this… thing for you?" Asked the older maid, wrinkling up her nose as she tugged at the shawl around Charlotte's shoulders.

"No thank you Eadie, I am perfectly comfortable." Charlotte replied graciously, her smile never failing, but Garrett noticed small lines of tension around her eyes. He realized she was losing patience with the attitude of her entourage.

"But it could have fleas, or worse." Eadie pulled more fervently at the shawl and Charlotte rounded on the woman. She did not raise her voice nor chide Eadie for her lack of respect. She simply fixed her with a hawk-like stare that the woman could not bear to face.

"I am running late, you and Hayley had best be about your chores. Gurney will accompany you." Charlotte commanded sternly and Eadie hunched over, looking down at her feet as she backed away from Charlotte. If they hadn't been out in the street Garrett thought the old woman might have even fallen to the ground and groveled. Only when they were gone did Charlotte let her distress show. It was the same look she had given him last night. Not anger, simply disappointment. Gratis did not notice her anguish, he was still staring at Garrett.

"We had best be off, not even I can keep the Sherriff waiting forever." Charlotte gave Garrett a cheeky smile and he feared he had turned white at the mention of the Sherriff. Gratis' eyes narrowed with suspicion as he registered Garrett's sudden tension.

"Might I have a word, Milady?" Gratis wedged himself between the pair, blocking Garrett with his broad shoulders, as he ushered Charlotte away. Garrett tried to appear indifferent to Gratis' attitude and retook his seat on the bench. Gratis glanced back at him warily as he spoke to Charlotte.

"Something is amiss about this man, Milady. I don't like the look of him." Even over the buzz in the market Garrett could clearly hear his voice, almost as though Gratis wanted him to hear every insulting word. "I don't think the Captain, or your father, would approve of you dealing with such rogues. Let alone dressing him in our standard." Gratis was clearly aghast at the idea of a ruffian like Garrett bearing the noble crest of his master. "I don't trust him." Charlotte laughed lightly and waved away Gratis' concerns.

"I don't trust him either Lieutenant, why else do you think I've denied him entry to Highfort?" Garrett frowned, but he should have known Charlotte would not be foolish enough to give him free entry to her Estate. "But he is useful to me. He can go places you never could and other ruffians trust him. They'd never speak the truth to you." Gratis frowned, knowing that Charlotte spoke the truth. "And I can't live my life constantly sheltered from the reality that people like Miloh exist. The least I can do is put him to good use. If I am paying him, he's less likely to go around cutting purses… or throats. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Milady…" Gratis paused, uncertain if he would go too far and anger his mistress. Garrett was amazed that Charlotte had already put up with this much lip from her servant. "You are too kind-hearted, this sort of man is not worthy of your generosity. If I might say, you have a tendency to let the under classes take advantage of your charitable nature." Garrett knew that Gratis was referring to her kindness toward the street urchins. Gratis was blinded by his pride and couldn't see that the children genuinely adored Charlotte; they weren't just trying to take her for all she was worth. She wasn't like other nobles who might have deigned to toss a handful of coppers at the children. Not from kindness but simply to be rid of them, to have them out of sight. The children might be poor, but that didn't mean they were stupid, they appreciated the difference between Charlotte and other nobles. Gratis would not understand because he had never lived on the streets, but Garrett had once been one of those begging, thieving children. Never had he received the level of compassion Charlotte displayed today.

"You may not say so." Charlotte gifted the Lieutenant with an icy glare and the man winced, as though she had actually slapped him. "I'm not a fool that throws my money away heedlessly. Nor can I turn a blind eye to the plight of these people." Garrett inhaled sharply at the anger that briefly flashed across her face; her conduct had been called into question too many times today.

"Forgive me, Milady. I have no right to remonstrate you." Gratis bowed his head. "I only want what is best for you. Your father…"

"You may not presume to know what my father would think!" Charlotte's cheeks flushed with barely contained rage, Garrett had never seen her so angry. She looked away from the Lieutenant as she struggled to compose herself. Garrett made a mental note that Charlotte's father was a touchy subject.

"Who is it that truly takes advantage of my kindness?" Charlotte asked softly, breaking the awkward silence between them, her lips pressed together with displeasure. Gratis turned red with shame as he comprehended the truth of her words.

'_He doesn't realize how good he has it. Now if she would just order him whipped every time he spoke out of turn she wouldn't have to put up with such impudence.' _Garrett had heard stories of servants being put to death for less insolence than Gratis had displayed.

"Perhaps if they were treated with a little kindness once in a while they wouldn't have turned out so bad in the end." Charlotte gave Gratis her winning smile and he sighed with relief, knowing that he was forgiven. Yet as she walked toward Garrett he could see a savage gleam in her eyes and he did not pity Gratis for the wrath he had brought upon himself. Garrett made another note to never trust Charlotte's hollow smiles.

"Now we are well and truly late. Come." Garrett fell in behind her as she swept away from the market. People scattered to make a path for her, some of them even bowing low and bidding her good day. She smiled and nodded politely in return but she was in too much of a hurry to stop and speak with any of them. Garrett wondered just how often she came to Stonemarket and what other places of the City she visited. He wondered what these humble folk would think if they knew the kind of places she visited at night and the crimes she committed.

'_They'd probably love her even more.'_ He mused bitterly, thinking of how unpopular he was. The Nobles and the City Watch hated him and the poor thought he was scum because he wasn't willing to try and scratch out a miserably honest living for himself like they did. They'd rather live under the boot heel of savage aristocracy that abused and took advantage of them. Rather than stand up and take the wealth generated by their back-breaking labor, money that they had just as much right to.

They cleared Stonemarket and Garrett realized that Charlotte was leading them to South Quarter. He felt a cold, heavy lump in the pit of his stomach. She wasn't just taking him to a meeting with the Sherriff; she was leading him into the largest City Watch Station in the City. He was flattered that she thought so much of his acting abilities, but Sherriff Fargus had actually seen Garrett in the flesh not more than three days ago. He suspected the Sherriff would not have forgotten Garrett's face in a hurry. Despite his misgivings he couldn't bring himself to duck away into the next dark alley they passed. He supposed that it was morbid curiosity on his behalf and sheer madness from Charlotte that kept them moving closer to the Station. Garrett found that, to his surprise, he firmly believed Charlotte had a plan.

He already knew that if she wanted him caught, or dead, she had already had ample opportunities for both. Garrett felt hopelessly trapped, if he ran now he risked alienating Charlotte for good. Despite the show she had put on with the street kids, Garrett knew how ruthless she could be. If Garrett was not under her thumb she would not risk letting him live now that he knew so many of her secrets.

'_So risk getting lynched by the Watch, or stabbed in the back by Charlotte._' Garrett weighed up his options. In the end he had to believe that Charlotte knew what she was doing. He wouldn't say that he trusted Charlotte with his life but he had growing faith in her ability to deceive people. Before he could change his mind they reached front gates of the Station and the two Watchmen on guard immediately asked their business.

"I have a meeting with the Sherriff." Charlotte informed them, knowing that it was completely unnecessary to tell them who she was. They stepped aside to let her pass and Charlotte marched through the outer courtyard to the main entrance. Gratis opened the door for Charlotte and stepped in behind her, letting the door swing shut and Garrett caught it before it could slam in his face. Gratis smirked at Garrett but the thief did not gratify him with a response. He would not let the conceited lieutenant provoke him; though he wished Gratis had been one of the guards that tasted his blackjack a few nights ago.

'_One can never tell what opportunities the future holds.'_ Garrett thought maliciously and his fingers itched to hold his blackjack.

"Milady Charlotte." The officer at the front desk recognized her and bowed deeply. They stood in the foyer of the Watch Station, one of the most modern buildings in the City. Garrett could still see the brackets where the mechanical Watchers had once rested. Since the death of Karras and the absorption of remaining Mechanists back into the Order of Hammerites there was no-one left to maintain the security machines. All such devices had been removed from the Watch Station's and penitentiaries. Not having them at all was far preferable to machines that went haywire through lack of repair. Not for the first time, Garrett thanked the Hammers for their fanatic hatred of technology developed by the false prophet Karras.

"The Sherriff awaits you in his office." Continued the desk officer. "Officer Bartel will escort you there."

"Thank you." Charlotte replied graciously and indicated that Bartel should lead the way. Young Bartel fidgeted nervously as he held the door open for Charlotte, unable to look directly at her. They were ushered swiftly through the Station which was swarming with officers. With every head that turned to watch them go past Garrett was sure the alarm would soon follow, but he was fortunate that all eyes rested on Charlotte, no-one bothered to spare a second glance for her servants or to even search them for weapons.

'_Though she is probably the most dangerous one here.'_ Garrett thought as he watched her float gracefully behind Bartel_. 'I can't trust her; I can't allow myself to be caught up in the same trap as everyone else. The naive fools, she has them all snared in her web with a single look.' _

Bartel led them up to the second floor and past the division offices. Garrett noticed that the Vice unit had the largest office yet they were the least effective of all the Watch departments. Clearly there was not limit to the corruption that had spread through the City Watch.

They continued up to the third floor and stopped at last in front of a door with a golden plaque upon it. Etched into the plaque were the words 'Sherriff Tyrel Fargus'. Bartel rapped gently on the door and a voice within called for them to enter.

"Lady Charlotte Rois-Dores." Bartel announced ceremoniously before hurriedly backing out of the office, closing the door behind him.

"Ahh, Milday." Fargus deftly took hold of Charlotte's hand and pecked it delicately. Charlotte quickly disengaged her hand with practiced elegance. Garrett could tell she loathed being touched by the Sherriff and would have snatched her hand away from him, except she knew it would have caused offense.

"To what do I owe the rare honor?" The Sherriff simpered as he guided her to a plain wooden seat before he took up his own on the other side of the large desk. He never even glanced at Garrett or Gratis, who hung to the side of the room by the door. It was as though they didn't even exist and Garrett began to wonder how many private conversations servants managed to over hear. How many secrets of State had spilled into the ears of less than loyal attendants?

Fargus had clearly designed his office to make it daunting for his guests. His seat was a grotesquely carved, towering horror. Made from the deepest ebony wood and set upon a small platform so that it sat much higher than the other chairs. The large desk was of the same material, creating a seemingly impenetrable barrier between Fargus and Charlotte. The effect was that he loomed over Charlotte, almost as though he were the Baron himself, sitting in judgment of her. Charlotte did not seem the least bit intimidated, having grown up around incredibly powerful and brutal men, it would take more than an ugly chair to scare her.

"I've come to request that this bounty on Garrett be removed." She stated matter-of-factly as though she was making the most simple and reasonable request in the world. Fargus laughed at her, thinking that she was jesting with him. Charlotte smiled indulgently until it finally dawned on Fargus that she was in earnest. He cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair taking on a very stern expression. Garrett watched with renewed interest, he had a feeling that Fargus was about to make the mistake of underestimating Charlotte.

"Milady..." Fargus began in a patronizing fashion. "I think that the apprehension of such dangerous criminals is best left to the professionals. I don't know what you hoped to accomplish by coming here today with this outrageous request, but it is out of the question." He tapped his finger on the arm of his chair to emphasize the last few words. Charlotte's frozen smile never faltered, she had anticipated this reaction.

"You are right Sherriff a delicate young woman such as myself knows very little about fighting crime. But it seemed to me that if you put that much pressure on a desperate criminal, won't he just go to ground?" Fargus tolerated her with a condescending smile and waited for her to finish stating her case, his mind already made up. "Wouldn't it be better to make him feel safe? Then he is more likely to get sloppy, to make a mistake. Then you will have him."

"You over-estimate the abilities of this thief; he can't hide from the entire population of this city. My men will find him. Don't you fret over that, Milady." Fargus had the cheek to give her a wink and Charlotte's smile vanished. Garrett could see a twinkle in her eye though; he couldn't believe she was actually enjoying this.

"You have no idea what this thief is capable of Sherriff. I am not asking you to remove this bounty, I am telling you to." Fargus reeled back in his seat, taken aback by her sudden change of temper.

"Milady, I must humbly protest." He stammered as the colour rose in his face. He was struggling to find a way to politely tell this rich and influential woman that it was not a demand she could make.

"Furthermore," Charlotte interjected before he could continue, "I am assigning a contingent of my own men to aid you in the apprehension of this thief. My retainers are not as widely known as yours; they will blend in much better out of uniform and have a far greater chance of finding this rogue." Fargus gaped at her, unable to comprehend her motives. "Captain Dorleac will be my liaison, any pertinent information you and your men gather shall be passed immediately on to him. I expect you will treat him and his men with all due respect and co-operate fully with them."

"But why would you do this? The Baron appointed us as law keepers; you have no authority in this matter." Fargus remained determined to resist Charlotte; he did not want outsiders taking over his operation.

"I expect you to keep this in the strictest confidence Sherriff, but that scoundrel dared to attempt a break-in at Highfort. He was foiled of course, but not before he knocked out three of my guards and made good his escape. We want him and I guarantee you, he shall be punished accordingly for all his crimes." Charlotte looked so menacing that Garrett felt a chill go down his spine, he truly hoped she was only acting.

"Even so this is most irregular. I cannot just hand over such powers to your men; it would be a major conflict of interest. The City Watch are autonomous, we have no political affiliations." Fargus puffed up with indignation but he was beginning to sweat, he knew he had to reach a compromise or Charlotte would storm from this office and use her connections to have him demoted.

"Spare me your rhetoric _Sherriff_." Charlotte hissed. "We both know who you're affiliated with. Shall I go to the City Council and tell them exactly which Wardens line your purse?" Fargus turned white, his Adam's apple jumping furiously as he tried to speak. "Or perhaps I should go directly to the Baron?" Charlotte mused to herself. "I could speak to him when I visit my father, whom the Baron _personally_ requested to aid him in the growing conflict with Blackbrook." Charlotte quirked an eyebrow out Fargus as she twitched at her skirts and leaned back to await his decision.

Fargus reached into his drawers for a handkerchief and mopped at the sweat on his brow, clenching his fist to calm his trembling hand. He stared down at his desk as though the solution he needed might be held there somewhere amongst the numerous files. He glanced furtively at Charlotte and looked away again biting at his lip.

To Garrett he looked like he was trying to calculate how much money he would need to pay the Warden's to convince them to make Charlotte 'disappear'. There was no sum that could induce even the densest crime lord to commit such an act.

"Remove the bounty?" Fargus said at last, sounding like a broken man. "And co-operate with Captain Dorleac…" Charlotte nodded and smiled pleasantly. "I would be most happy to oblige you." Fargus turned green, as though the very words made him feel sick.

"I'm so glad you could see things my way." Charlotte replied graciously. "I will not forget how helpful you have been Sherriff." Fargus squirmed in his chair; he was smart enough to grasp the true meaning of her words. Charlotte would not forget how much he had argued with and patronized her. Charlotte rose from her seat and curtsied fluidly. "Captain Dorleac will contact you soon. Good day Sherriff Fargus."

Fargus was incapable of even rising to bow but Charlotte ignored him, opening the door and exiting his office without another word. Garrett and Gratis trailed behind her as she swept out of the City Watch office.

Bartel was leaning against the wall outside the office and he jumped to attention when he saw them emerge. Charlotte waited patiently for Bartel to escort them out but Gratis had no such tolerance.

"Quickly man, her Ladyship does not wait upon the likes of you!" Bartel reddened and scurried down the hall, Gratis seemed unusually agitated as the trio followed behind. He kept glancing furtively at Charlotte, his brows knit with concern. The meeting with Fargus had unsettled Gratis and Garrett wondered why.

The answer became clear soon after they left the Watch Station. Charlotte led them to a nearby park and stopped beneath the shade of a large tree.

"You have something to say Lieutenant." Charlotte rounded on Gratis expectantly.

"Milady." Gratis paused, still trying to get his thoughts in order. "I don't understand. We thought you did not want to pursue this thief." Charlotte gave Gratis an indulgent smile and Garrett stepped back from the couple, anticipating that Charlotte was about to turn nasty.

"I wanted only to keep things quiet, to protect the reputation of my men. But I realize that this was not enough for some of you." Charlotte glared pointedly at Gratis, letting him see her displeasure. "You have defied me and have been openly asking questions about Garrett's arrest and escape from Pavelock." Gratis kept his head up and his back straight, taking the scolding like a good soldier. "You have been drawing attention to us, connecting our name to Garrett."

"We thought there was no harm in asking questions." Gratis pleaded his case, but Garrett could see he was already shamed and defeated. "We wanted to find the man that attacked Gordon, Miller and Gil."

"You all thought that I would do nothing?" Charlotte looked appalled, that her own guards thought so little of her. "That I do not care about our men?"

"Forgive me. Forgive us!" Gratis begged, looking genuinely horrified. "We should never have doubted you." He bowed his head at last, knowing that nothing could remove the shame he had brought upon himself.

"It is too late for apologies, the damage has been done." Gratis winced at Charlotte's tone, she had never even spoken to Garrett with such venom. "There are already rumors circulating. Isn't that so Miloh?" Charlotte looked at Garrett expectantly.

"Uhh, yes ma'am." Garrett stammered, surprised to suddenly be included in the discussion. "I've been hearing some talk about a break-in, nothing for certain yet, but these things tend to gather momentum." He paused, uncertain as to what Charlotte wanted him to say. Her eyebrows twitched slightly and he knew he was heading in the right direction. "Folks are putting two and two together, they think it's very strange this sudden interest your men have in Garrett."

"Indeed. I don't think we will manage to contain the rumors." Charlotte's expression became hard and cold. "But we will discourage other thieves if we make a grisly public example of so renowned a thief as Garrett." She sounded so vicious that Garrett felt a chill go down his spine. He hoped she was only acting.

"I know you and Captain Dorleac won't fail me again Lieutenant." Garrett dreaded to think what the punishment would be if Gratis did fail her again. Garrett didn't know how this little lady had managed to create such a menacing aura, she was even starting to scare him. "You _will_ find Garrett." Charlotte commanded and Gratis snapped back to attention, his eyes taking on a feverish glow.

"I promise you Milady, we will not rest until we have apprehended him." Charlotte nodded approvingly at his determination.

"Now, if you will excuse me a moment, I wish to have a private word with Mr. Rance." Gratis glanced at Garrett with distaste but he submitted to her will without argument. Charlotte and Garrett strolled away from Gratis until they were out of ear-shot. Gratis alternated between watching them and scanning the park for any sign of a threat to Charlotte.

"How have you enjoyed your outing, Garrett?" Suddenly Charlotte was all gentle consideration again. Her face soft, her words caressing. It made Garrett feel even more uncomfortable.

"I think you're mad, taking me to Fargus' office." Garrett was serious but Charlotte chuckled.

"You still followed me though." Her mouth twitched into a little lop-sided smile, she was clearly pleased that Garrett had done as she commanded.

"Did I have a choice?" Garrett muttered sourly and her eyes glittered with cruel delight. "Nice of you to remove the bounty, only to send your crack troops after me." Garret grumbled, failing to see what she found so amusing.

"It is not as bad as you make it sound." She waved away his concerns as though they were nothing more than buzzing insects. "My men had already decided to defy me, they were already hunting you down and it would have only been a matter of time until they caught you."

'_Thanks for the vote of confidence.'_ Garrett grimaced.

"Now that it's official, they must report every detail of their efforts to me. I will know where they are and what they have found. We will stay always more than one step ahead of them. I know how they think Garrett, how they operate. Not only do I control your biggest threat, but I've crippled them and the City Watch for you." She seemed very pleased with herself and Garrett didn't want to admit she was completely right. It made him sick to think how easily she got her way in all things.

"But now the Sherriff knows you had a break-in, you know that will leak out." Garrett rubbed that fact in her face; he couldn't let her have a complete victory today. "I was only lying about those rumors."

"I know. I do not take kindly to disobedience Garrett." Charlotte's mouth pursed with displeasure "It will be a harsh lesson for my men, but one they have earned."

'_And a lesson to me._' Garret thought. He suspected that was the real reason he was here today. Charlotte wanted to drive home the kind of power she could wield and that she was not a woman to be crossed.

"How do you like your disguise?" Charlotte deftly changed the subject, sensing Garrett's unease.

"Not much, if I can't get into Highfort with it." Garrett scowled as Charlotte laughed. He didn't know what had come over him, standing here talking and joking with her as though they were old friends.

"What kind of simpleton do you take me for?" Charlotte asked lightly.

"I don't." Garrett replied bluntly, he would never question her intellect. "I can't believe I wasn't recognized?" He looked down at his scuffed shoes and shook his head in amazement.

"You would be amazed how simple it is to make people see only what you want them to." She traced the edges of the crest on his tunic with a finger and Garrett felt a tingle go down his spine. He didn't dare meet her gaze. "I learned that from a very young age, to use misdirection and suggestion. I'll show you some time." Charlotte's mouth turned up into the familiar mischievous grin. He didn't want to know what fresh torture she had planned for him. Gratis had turned his attention back to them and Charlotte took her hand off Garrett's chest.

"This is where we part ways. You need to return to the safe house and get changed. Benji will meet you later this evening to show you to your new safe house." Garrett blinked with surprise.

"Is there something wrong with the current one?" He asked, concerned that somehow they had been discovered.

"It seemed the best place to take you at first, far from Pavelock and in such an affluent area; I knew the City Watch would not seriously think you'd be there. But it's too difficult to enter and leave quickly with the canals and too far from Highfort. I want you close by." Charlotte was mocking him.

"You're paying for it." He replied bluntly, deciding not to argue the point. He certainly didn't mind being closer to her estate. Garrett thought back to all those vaults beneath Highfort, he desperately wanted to know what was behind those heavy, iron doors. "Why Benji, am I not worth your personal attention anymore?" Garrett drawled sarcastically.

"I'm expected at the Hammerite temple in Downtowne this evening." Charlotte replied tersely.

"You never struck me as the religious type." Garrett was genuinely surprised to know she associated with the Hammers. He knew the temple she was talking about though; the one Constantine and his Beastmen had destroyed.

"My family has always supported the Order. In most recent times especially, my father had a great dislike for that whining idiot Karras. It is our money that has paid for the rebuilding of that temple. It's the re-opening that they are commemorating tonight with a special service." From the stiffness in her posture Garrett could tell she would tolerate no mockery regarding her relationship with the Hammers. "You surprise me though Garrett, I thought you were an old acquaintance of the Order. After all, it was High Priest Atticus that first brought you to my attention." That did surprise Garrett; Hammers were notoriously tight-lipped with outsiders. He wondered what the High Priest had said about him, nothing good in all likelihood.

"Good-day Garrett, I will see you again in a few days time. I'm afraid all these long days and nights are taking their toll on me. I'll let you have some peace to settle into your new home." Charlotte turned on her heel and walked away from him toward Gratis. The lieutenant fell in at her side as they swept out of the park, leaving Garrett alone and bewildered.

"She's a thief!" Garrett exclaimed. She couldn't be a devout follower of the Order of the Hammer. A slow smile spread across Garrett's face. He would never be able to convince the City Watch that she was the Fox. Hammers on the other hand never bothered with actual evidence before convicting heretics. Nor did they care about rank or politics; no-one was above the Builder's judgment. Not even the mighty Charlotte Rois-Dores.


	15. Songs of the Forge

At last here it is my long suffering readers. I can't tell you how painful this chapter was to write. The scene between Charlotte and Atticus has been rewritten at least 4 times now because I couldn't make up my mind about the tone I wanted for it. I think I've finally reached a middle ground that I am pleased with and I hope you like it. I will try not to take so long with the next chapter, I have alot of ideas for it so hopefully it should be done soon and not after another year has passed. Bad author, bad, bad, bad!!!

* * *

_I toil at the forge to strengthen my faith.  
Steel and spirit are tempered both.  
As the fire burns flaws from the metal,  
Oh Builder,  
So let the wickedness be scoured from my soul._

- Hammer Prayer

_Charlotte wasn't kidding when she said she wanted me close by. My new safe house was located at the northern end of Downtowne, a stone's throw from Old Quarter. I could even see the spires of Highfort from the living room balcony, the estate looming over all in Old Quarter. I feel like Charlotte is taunting me, knowing that every day I will look out and see those oppressing towers; slavering at the thought of the treasures that lay in the vaults below. That ego of her will be her undoing, sooner or later. A true thief knows to be patient, to wait for the perfect moment to strike out from the shadows. I can keep playing the obedient, injured rascal; let her think she has me on a leash. Let her even begin to think she can trust me. That's when she'll slip up and I'll be lurking right behind, ready to make the fatal blow._

_It's all only a matter of time._

The night air was revitalizing and Garrett reveled in being alone and free in the City again. He felt his mind clear of the distractions of the past few days. There was only him and the stone beneath his feet; the rough wooden door against his fingers and the pick in his hand as he expertly sprang the first lock of the evening.

He gently closed the door behind him as he entered the jewelry shop. Garrett had chosen his targets very carefully this evening since he would only be able to rob one or two. His leg was already aching from his exertions earlier in the day, so he could not move too far from the location of his safe house. With that in mind if he robbed too many stores and homes nearby, the Watch would almost certainly be able to pinpoint his hide out. Nor did Garrett want to push himself too hard; the most important thing was to regain his health. Garrett scowled as he thought of the wound in his leg, it always brought Charlotte to mind and he needed to focus on the job right now. He couldn't afford to let his attention slip.

'_She's the last person I want to think about.' _He tried to convince himself as he picked open the strongboxes that held the shop's lucrative merchandise. The precious gems winked seductively at him in the dim light as he scooped them up and dropped them into his satchel. Garrett felt a wave of excitement wash over him as he tied the bag closed and left the store with the delicious weight of the loot against his back. There was no feeling as gratifying as a successful robbery. As he stood in the darkened doorway of the shop his heart skipped a beat. He remembered an archway so similar to this one, his back pressed against the wooden door and Charlotte molding into his body as they both struggled to hide in too little shadow. Garrett's elation drained away into anger, couldn't he pass five minutes without thinking about that evil woman.

He scurried down the street, a fleeting shadow passing from corner to cove. The curfew was not yet in effect but all other citizens had abandoned the streets, none of them wanted to risk being hauled in by the City Watch for questioning. Garrett thought it amusing that honest citizens suffered more from the tight reigns of the Watch than he ever did. The very people they were supposed to be protecting. It was just further proof that being honest brought you no good.

Garrett paused at the end of the street, checking in all directions for any sign of City Watch patrols. He crossed the intersection and pressed himself flat against the great stone wall surrounding the Hammer temple. The new building was twice the size of the former and Garrett could hear the hiss of steam and clang of the forge as innumerable Hammerites busied themselves with the Builder's work. Beneath the toll of industry he could hear them singing their hymns and muttering sermons. Garrett shook his head; he would never be able to comprehend their faith. The memorial service had not yet begun and would run late into the evening; Hammers were not subject to the curfew. He caught himself wondering if Charlotte had arrived yet and beat a clenched fist against the wall at his back. He had meant to steer clear of the temple; it wasn't en route to any of the places he had chosen to rob. Garrett pushed out of the shadows and returned the way he had come but halfway to his next target he felt the desire to steal slip from his body. His shoulders slumped as though they carried a great burden and he turned his face skyward. The stars held no comfort or answer for him and he began to shuffle back in the direction of his safe house.

'_I'm tired is all. I have walked too far on my injured leg today.' _He told himself, unable to fathom a reason for this sudden loss of avarice. Garrett didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was deeply worried that the thought of ill-gotten plunder did nothing to raise his spirits. He had always scoffed when he had heard older thieves speaking of the moment when stealing lost its allure, of the point in their lives when they realized they needed something more than the cold, hard feeling of gold. Garrett believed they spun this tale simply to excuse them from the fact that they went soft and lazy. They couldn't cut it as a thief anymore and had no choice but to find a new career. To settle down with whatever woman would have them and raise a brood of squalling brats.

These men had always disgusted him but he felt a sickening lump in his stomach as he feared that maybe the tales were true. Perhaps his time had come to turn into one of those revolting has-beens. He shook his head, unwilling to believe that he could ever be like that. He hadn't been well, he knew that sick people often lost their appetite, perhaps it was a similar thing for him. Garrett was sure he would be right again in a few days.

His legs were leaden as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. As he opened the front door he immediately sensed something was amiss and he felt re-energized at the hint of danger. Frozen in the doorway he could easily hear the rustle of the curtains in the bedroom. The window was closed when he had gone out and he assumed someone had forced it open and entered his safe house. Garrett's stomach twisted, he had a gut instinct that one of his former brothers was his unwelcome guest.

Garrett's dagger materialized in his hand as he crept toward the bedroom, prepared for battle, even though he was so sure of what awaited him. He paused in the darkness just beyond the doorway, scanning the bedroom before he stepped within. In the far corner a shady figure hugged the wall. Garrett nearly mistook his visitor for a mere shadow. There was only one who could rival Garrett in this way and so the thief put away his weapon, knowing that this Keeper would never harm him.

"Artemus." Garrett drawled unsurprised. After all his old mentor was the only Keeper that even cared to talk to Garrett these days, the others tended to shun him, even when they wanted his help. "What took you so long?" He continued mockingly.

"It's not like you to desire our presence, Garrett." Artemus stepped from the shadows into the moonlight that streaked through the open window. He dressed like Garrett, hidden beneath hood and cloak.

"Oh, I just love our little reunions. It always means my life is about to get... _interesting_." Garrett remarked bitterly. "I had a feeling we'd be seeing each other soon." Garrett moved into the living area and leaned his bow against the cold fireplace before he settled into a chair. He did not bother to turn the lights on, knowing that Artemus also preferred the dark.

"What do you know of the Fox?" Artemus asked as he followed Garrett but did not take a seat, ready to slip away at a moment's notice. Garrett rolled his eyes at this question, so typical of a Keeper, always probing to learn what others know and never give anything away in return.

"I know you're always spying on me so you must know we've only just met. I'd wager I don't know as much as you. So if you're not going to share anything new with me, you might as well leave now." He knew Artemus had come here with a purpose and would not leave until he had fulfilled it, no matter what Garrett said to him.

"We have been aware of Charlotte Rois-Dores for some time, but find it difficult to observe her in the evening in her guise as the Fox. The young Lady is surprisingly good at evading us, or was until you joined her." Garrett frowned but did not take offense at Artemus' words. The straight forward Keeper spoke only the blunt truth and did not mean any insult. Garrett wasn't pleased that he had inadvertently helped the Keeper's by slowing Charlotte down with his injuries. For a moment he almost felt guilty for making her vulnerable, but it was an emotion he was able to quickly shake off.

"Some time?" Garrett pondered. "So her suspicions about the Steward are true, this James?" He did not expect that Artemus would answer his question.

"She has told you of Keeper Jameil then?" Artemus sounded surprised. "It's true that he was one of us, one of our best. Naturally he was chosen for the difficult task of infiltrating Highfort. He succeeded where so many others had failed, rising to the rank of Steward no less. I never doubted that he would do well." There was open admiration and affection in Artemus' voice and Garrett wondered how well the two Keeper's had known each other. "Having finally achieved such a victory the Council became fearful of the day Jameil could no longer serve as an informant, through retirement or death."

"The Council cared more about the information he could provide than the man himself? I'm shocked." Garrett drawled sarcastically but Artemus ignored him.

"When Charlotte was born the Council believed they had been granted a rare opportunity. They thought to recruit from within the nobility themselves, no longer having to attempt to insinuate our people as servants or advisers."

"Let me guess. Things didn't go exactly as the Council had planned." Garrett would have anticipated such an outcome, but sometimes the Keeper Council seemed out of touch with reality.

"I believe Jameil was already feeling..." Artemus paused to find the proper word, "_distanced_ from us, having spent the majority of his life at Highfort. I cannot say for certain why he turned against us, but the Council believed he had strayed from the path of Balance." Garrett knew Artemus well enough to see that the elder Keeper was troubled by this incident. It was clear he had doubts about the Council's judgment and James' motivations.

"So what happened to him?" Garret already knew James had mysteriously disappeared, but he wanted to know how it was done. If the Keeper's had broken into Highfort some way other than the route he used, he wanted to repeat their success.

"He was dealt with, Garrett." Artemus replied impassively.

"You mean he was killed?" Garrett leaned forward eagerly; he still couldn't believe that Keeper's would murder someone as Charlotte believed they had. Artemus was momentarily silenced by the accusation and it occurred to Garrett that Artemus might not even know what final fate had befallen James.

"We could not leave Jameil in so powerful a position, with such sway over the Rois-Dores heir." Artemus continued, artfully re-directing the flow of conversation. Garrett decided to let it pass, for now.

"Only because he wasn't your puppet anymore." Garrett was well acquainted with Keeper hypocrisy. "But no, it turned out _so_ much better this way." Garrett shook his head in disdain.

"The Council thought that with Jameil gone, her training terminated, Charlotte would forget about him and everything he taught her. They had not anticipated her devotion to him."

'_And now she's determined to bring you all down.' _Garrett wondered if the Keeper's were in fact a little afraid of Charlotte. "Why not tell her the truth; that he was going to recruit her to spy on her own family. She might have a change of heart."

"You know she would not believe us." Artemus spoke the truth as always. "Perhaps..." he began and Garrett waited expectantly, the visit had been building up to this, "if you were to tell her."

"I've done enough of your dirty work," Garrett growled, "and reaped the rewards." He spat bitterly as he pulled back his hood to remind Artemus of what the Keeper's had cost him.

"We don't control your fate Garrett. You cannot hold us accountable for your… _misfortunes_." The usual Keeper rhetoric, he'd heard it all before.

"It's interesting you say that, Artemus. I've recently heard a different opinion." Artemus was silent, but Garrett knew he was pondering his words. Nothing escaped Artemus' notice. Garrett would never admit it, but if more Keeper's were like his mentor, he might have been able to stomach the Order.

"I see Charlotte has used her famed wiles on you, I would not have thought you so susceptible." Artemus sounded genuinely disappointed. "Is it possible that you actually care for her?" He uttered in disbelief.

"I despise her." Garrett snarled leaving the comfort of his chair and staring out the large glass doors that led from the living room to the balcony. His eyes turned instinctively to the spires of Highfort and he felt his jaw clench.

'_Why should I even care what he thinks?' _Garrett fumed, angered that Artemus thought he had been so easily taken in by Charlotte.

"The end result is the same." Artemus stated, his tone indicating he did not wholly believe Garrett's bitter protest. "Remember Garrett, the essence of balance is detachment. To grow fond or spiteful, to embrace her cause, you would lose your balance."

"I keep telling you, I'm trying to forget your tenets." The last thing Garrett wanted was a sermon. He was tired of everyone telling him what he ought to believe.

"I can see you are not yet ready to listen, always you seem blind to the truth until we pull back the veil for you."

"If there is nothing else, Artemus..." Garrett began, his patience nearly worn out.

"Only this, beware of Charlotte Rois-Dores and the friends she keeps. You are nothing to her but a token she uses for her own gains."

_'Tell me something I don't know.'_ Garrett scoffed.

"I know you have not abandoned all that we taught you. You still thirst for knowledge. If you seek illumination, I suggest you attend a sermon tonight." Artemus pointed out the window in the direction of the Downtowne chapel.

"The Hammer Temple?" Immediately Garrett's mind began to churn with plans to break in.

"After the ceremony, Charlotte is appointed to meet with High Priest Atticus. I think you will find their topic of conversation most pertinent." Before he could form a reply, Garrett realized that Artemus had already disappeared.

"Damn him." Garrett muttered and headed for the bathroom. He stared at the neat white tiles as he used the privy; counting the number of them along one wall in the fashion of a man that observed distances and patterns by habit rather than conscious thought. Garrett decided that Artemus and the Keeper's were trying to manipulate him as usual. They would claim all they wanted was to help him, and that might be true to an extent, but he knew from experience that always they had an ulterior motive. The final outcome of their machinations was generally not so helpful to Garrett. He made up his mind that he would not be going to the Hammer temple, simply because it was what they wanted him to do.

He returned to the living room and considered retiring to bed early for a change. Garrett stopped mid-step and backtracked to the bathroom. He stood in the doorway and scrutinized the pristine whiteness before he started to pace along the wall of the living room toward the doorway that connected to the bedroom. He moved to the wall that should have been adjacent to the bathroom. Garrett rapped on the wall with his knuckles and smiled smugly at the hollow echo that returned to him.

He'd spent mere moments in the apartment after Benji had shown him in, so it was no surprise that he hadn't noticed the secret room until now. Garrett methodically searched the bedroom for the lever that would open the hidden compartment. He found it on the far side of the bed behind a small table. He pushed the lever and with a small click a door sized portion of the wall pressed inwards, sliding sideways with the barest whisper to reveal a long, narrow closet. He hit the light switch just beside the secret door and a single bulb slowly glowed to life. His eyes quickly took in the contents of the closet and Garrett's eyebrows twitched with surprise. He recognized Charlotte's cloak and hood hanging from a small rack and he turned his attention to the shelves nearby. There was a neat assortment of arrows, bombs, rope and a set of lock picks. He found her bow and dagger amongst the tools and in one small pigeonhole was a bulging coin purse. He picked up the bag of gold, which he suspected had been placed there purely to tempt him and beneath it he found a folded letter addressed to him. Garrett eagerly tore open the wax seal.

_Garrett,_

_I expected you would find this room. The gold is yours and feel free to store anything you like here._

_But don't touch my things._

_-C_

Finishing the letter he was overcome with the urge to never touch the coin purse again and immediately finger every other item in the closet. Garrett was not flattered that Charlotte predicted he would find her hidden cache, but he was astounded that she was keeping him in what could only be her own private safe house. He moved further into the closet to see what else he might find. He brushed past her cloak and found a few sets of common streets clothes hanging beside it; they were not men's clothes but looked to be tailored for a boy. He wondered if she allowed Benji to also make use of this apartment and the secret room. Next to the boy's clothes was a very dirty and patched dress and this surprised Garrett even further. He couldn't imagine Charlotte wearing something as horrible as this tattered and smelly rag. He wondered what occasion would call for Charlotte to wear such a thing and it occurred to him how dangerous it would be for her to be alone in the City and dressed like this. All manner of men could accost her and she wouldn't be able to hide behind her title for protection. He felt a growing admiration for her courage but his blood also boiled at the idea of some ruffian laying his hands on Charlotte.

Garrett turned red as he recalled how roughly he had laid his hands on her only an evening ago. He remembered the feel of her long, soft hair as it brushed against his bare skin and his pulse quickened. He pushed aside the tattered dress as though he could physically push away the memories that tormented him. The last garment on the rack was more suited to Charlotte he decided. A very elegant dress, not unlike the one she had worn the first night he had seen her, in the garden courtyard in Highfort. His hands caressed the long sleeves of the gown and Garrett realized that Charlotte's scent still lingered upon the soft fabric. He leaned in closer and inhaled deeply of the traces of her perfume. Garrett could easily summon an image of Charlotte wearing this dress in his mind, the way it would hang from her slender frame, the deep colour enhancing her creamy skin. His mind ran wild with images of Charlotte. He imagined holding her close as she gazed at him in adoration, his hands slowly loosening the ties on her dress. Garrett reeled away from the gown; feeling like the room was suffocating him. He escaped to the bedroom, panting as he gripped the ledge of the open window. He tried to slow his breathing and calm the fever that swept through his body. Garrett glanced furtively at the secret room as though a monster lurked within, waiting to pounce upon him.

He exhaled angrily and stormed into the living room, snatching up his bow and slinging it over his back. There was no escaping it; he had to go to the Hammer Temple. He had to learn the truth about Charlotte and where he featured in her plans. He didn't trust her, but then he didn't trust the Keeper's either. He knew that somewhere between the two of them lay the truth. Garrett found it suspicious that the Keeper's had chosen not to deal with Charlotte directly.

_'Why do they want to use me to get to her?' _He supposed that they couldn't just sweep Charlotte away as they had done with James. The Keeper's seemed to be taking her quite seriously, so what did they know that Garrett did not. He locked the door of the apartment behind him and headed out onto the street. He hid in the shadow of the building until he could be sure there were no patrols in the near vicinity and started to make a beeline for the Temple. With all the guests arriving for the ceremony he hoped most of the Hammer security would be focused on the front entrance, but then many guards would also be posted to keep the visitors from wandering into areas reserved only for sworn brothers. Still he didn't need to be in any hurry, Garrett was sure the Hammers would drone on for hours during the commemoration. There would be plenty of time yet before Charlotte could steal away for a private meeting with the High Priest.

The tower bell at the temple began to clang thunderously as Garrett turned a corner, the imposing fortress of stone looming into sight. The last few stragglers hurried to get inside as the tolling signaled the beginning of the memorial. Through the tall wrought iron gates Garrett spied a carriage with the Rois Dores crest, the horses being tended by the driver. Throughout the Temple courtyard this action was mimicked by dozens of other drivers, trying to calm horses startled by the booming bell. Garrett waited patiently as the bell continued to peal, hoping that at least one team of horses might panic enough to cause pandemonium and allow him to slip inside unnoticed. Unfortunately the bell fell silent before it could cause a stampede and he was forced to seek alternate entry. The temple was surrounded on all sides by a high stone wall over which he could not see. The moment he scaled the wall he could be in full view of a legion of Hammers, it was risk he didn't want to take.

The eastern side of the compound was adjoined by stately homes and Garrett decided to break into the closest one in an attempt to see over the wall. He scuttled to the rear of the house, jumping over the small fence and landing in shrubs on the other side. He disentangled himself from the bushes, shaking off snagging leaves and branches as he crept toward the back door. He passed below a window but could not make out much in the dark interior of the room. He easily picked open the door and gained entry to the ground floor, pausing to listen for the inhabitants. Garrett was able to make out the sounds of relaxed conversation in one of the front rooms, flickering light spilling out of the open doorway and dancing across the stairwell. Garrett made straight for the stairway, climbing each step with methodical care. One creaking stair could be all it took to alert the owners, so he took his time ascending to the first floor. As he reached the landing he turned down the hall to find the bedroom that looked out onto the Hammer temple. He put his ear to the door and could detect no sounds within. Tentatively he pushed the door open but froze as he took in the scene before him. A young boy stood with his face pressed against the glass window, peering out at the Temple. He was dressed in a sleeping robe and Garrett could see the tangled sheets of the bed the boy had recently vacated. Garrett cursed under his breath at the Hammers for ringing their bell at this hour, rousing people from their beds. He decided not to wait for the boy to return to sleep, but closed the door quietly and continued on to the next room. Fortunately this one was empty and Garrett crossed to the window to look down into the Hammer Temple. From here he looked onto the bell tower, but could still not get a good view of the compound, the wall was too high. He pushed the window open and pulled himself up to stand on the ledge. Grasping the window frame he slowly leaned out of the window until he could just see into the other bedroom. It seemed the boy had left the window and Garrett clambered up onto the roof, confident that he could act without being spotted. From the roof he could now see numerous smaller buildings surrounding the main Chapel. Smoke rose from multiple chimneys and he heard the clamor of hammer against anvil, indicating that the Hammers were still hard at work, even at this hour.

Garrett pulled a rope arrow from his quiver and notched it against his bow, letting the rope unfurl onto the roof as he took aim at the bell tower. He let the arrow fly and allowed himself a small smile of triumph as the arrowhead lodged in the wooden framework that supported the bell. He took the other end of rope and looped it around the chimney, finding it too be of much newer and sturdier construction than the one Charlotte had used the last time. Garrett could only mimic her trick so far, since the rope sloped upward toward the bell tower. He gripped the rope with his hands and crossed his legs over the top, dangling upside down. He shimmied up the rope, hand over hand and kept his eye as best he could on the ground below, watching for any Hammers that might raise an alarm. He reached the bell tower, dropped from the rope and decided he would leave it in place as his escape route. If he found a better way out he didn't much care if the Hammers found the evidence of his visit, they were not likely to run and report to the City Watch.

Garrett pulled open the trap door that led down from the tower and poked his head through the opening into the dark store room below. Seeing it was safe he dropped down through the hole, his boots echoing lightly on the stone as he landed. He opened the nearest door and looked out onto the arched walkway ahead. He could see a Hammer standing guard at the stairwell at the other end and heard the passionate words of the High Priest rising from down below.

"We must be beaten and blended by the Hammer many times over until we will be strong as iron." Garrett crept toward the edge of the walkway and peeked over the banister. He looked down onto the vast nave and the congregation gathered there, all of them listening to the Priest with dutiful attention. "Through the labor of industry will you attain enlightenment. Let the fire of the Builder's forge purify your thoughts."

He had no difficulty singling Charlotte out from the crowd; she sat by herself at the very front, just below the altar. Garrett remembered that she was representing her family this evening as a special guest of the Hammers and was to be honored for the money they had donated to help rebuild this temple. Garrett scowled as he realized that Charlotte was not entirely alone. He spied Captain Dorleac standing to one side in the shadow of an archway, his eyes roaming over the cathedral in search of threats to his mistress. Though to Garrett it seemed Dorleac spent more time gazing at Charlotte than looking for danger. He considered how easy it would be to put an arrow between the Captain's eyes from this excellent vantage point. Garrett staid his hand and smirked; he had greater torments planned for the Captain than that. He'd wish Garrett had blessed him with a quick, clean death before the thief was done with him.

Garrett was not interested in staying and listening to the sermon and decided to seek out Atticus' audience chamber instead. Having been in numerous Hammer buildings Garrett knew that the priests quarters were generally located below the temple itself and that Atticus would receive guests within his own quarters. The first step would be to sneak past the Hammer guarding the stairs down. Not much of a challenge for Garrett as there was ample shadow and the Hammerite was so involved in the Priest's lecture he probably wouldn't have noticed Garrett no matter how much ruckus he made. Garrett took full advantage of this and filched the keys hanging from the Hammer's belt. The less effort he had to expend on this little jaunt the better

He descended the stairs, keeping an ear out for any Hammer patrols. As Garrett had expected, this evening the Hammers were preoccupied with protecting the exterior of their Temple and keeping their guests confined to one area. The rest of the building seemed quite empty. As long as Garrett avoided the forges and living areas of the acolytes he ought to find his way unbarred. Garrett moved deeper into the temple, Atticus' voice becoming a distant murmur as the thief crept along the stony corridors. He stopped at each door, placing his ear to it and trying to discern what lay beyond before he peeked inside. It seemed that the Hammers, being such an imaginative breed, had rebuilt the new temple as a nearly exact replica of the old one. His discerning eye could even spot where parts of the old temple had remained intact and they had added new masonry around it.

With this revelation Garrett headed directly to where he suspected High Priest's Quarters would be. He paused near an intersection, blending easily into the shadows. Moments later a group of Hammers swept past him. Having finished their daily labor at the forge they were making their way to the dining hall. Garrett was rather surprised at seeing them. He had heard the number of new recruits to the Order had dwindled yet here were at least a dozen fresh-faced acolytes. With the war on-going and poverty ever increasing, Garrett supposed that there could be many desperate people willing to undergo the rigors of joining the Order. If at the end of the day you had a roof over your head and a full stomach, such a way of life could be almost bearable.

_'But not for me.' _No matter how hard Garrett's life may have been at times, he knew he couldn't sacrifice his freedom for comfort and security. He hated rules and regulations and the thought of sacrificing his identity to any religious belief. Keeper's certainly weren't as over-bearing as Hammers but he still felt stifled amongst them. Now once again he was beginning to feel the uncomfortable weight of a yolk across his shoulders. He didn't enjoy the feeling of being kept by Charlotte. Garrett knew that if she started to get too pushy then one day he would simply up and disappear; no matter the consequences, it was simply his nature. But not without biting the hand that would both feed and dare to bind him.

He found the stairs leading down to the lower levels and he crept down them anxiously. If he was right he would be entering an area restricted only to priests and master forgers. If he had a run in with one of them he'd have a serious fight on his hands. They wielded dangerous magic that could easily kill a man. Though Garrett scorned Hammers for their beliefs, he had to respect the power they could attain. If only because underestimating an opponent's strength was the quickest way to get caught; or killed. A thief could never be too careful.

'_Even the greatest thief this rancid City has ever seen.' _Garrett chuckled quietly as he surveyed the corridor before him. He made his way methodically from door to door, looking for a sign that would indicate which one led to Atticus' chambers. It would be a fairly ornate door; Hammers were not given to humility. Garrett found what he was looking for, a heavy wooden door, a golden hammer set into it. He was fairly certain this was the right one as it lay at the very heart of the Temple, directly below the Chapel itself. He pushed the door open and slipped inside. The anteroom was well lit and clearly ready to receive its distinguished visitor, the Lady Rois Dores. Branching from this guest room were two doors, leading to Atticus' private office and his bedroom. Garrett decided the bedroom would likely be the safest place for him to wait. With the door open he would easily be able to eavesdrop on Charlotte and Atticus. For good measure he decided to place a scouting orb in the anteroom, so that he could watch them as well. He placed it beneath a cabinet, hoping it would evade detection. He doubted Atticus would notice it but he was wary of Charlotte's sharp eyes. Though since she would not expect Garrett to be here spying on her he doubted she would be looking for such a thing.

Garrett activated the orb and retreated toward Atticus' bedroom. He needed to find someplace safe to hide as using the orbs could be disorientating and he needed to focus on it, rather than worrying about what was happening in his immediate vicinity. He made it to the bedroom and settled himself in a dark corner. He felt a little nauseous from the double vision which he never seemed to get used to, but it was a small price to pay for having a tool as useful as the orbs. He closed his real eye and focused on the view relayed to him through the orb. He was getting a fairly clear view of the guest room, though he could not see the door. This didn't concern him as he would easily hear them enter. He settled back to wait for them, grateful for the opportunity to rest his leg. He stretched it out in front of him. Sarvi's stitches tugged slightly during certain movements, but so far they were holding up well. Gingerly he prodded at his broken nose. It was still tender, but the swelling had gone down quite a bit.

After thirty minutes Garrett found himself growing restless. He contemplated taking the opportunity to rob Atticus of his worldly possessions, but feared the Priest could notice something was amiss. As the minutes continued to tick by Garrett tried to not anticipate the conversation Charlotte and Atticus might have. He did not want to dwell on the idea that Charlotte would betray him to the Hammer's yet doubt nagged at him. He tried to shift his focus but there was nothing to hold his attention in a Priest's chambers.  
Finally he heard the door open and Charlotte's voice carried clearly to him.

"...it very much. It was so inspiring." Garrett was taken back, that couldn't be Charlotte. She sounded like an impressionable young girl, gushing with adoration.

"At least you hear my words." Scoffed Atticus, his voice deep and theatrical. Even now he sounded like he was preaching in the cathedral, not having a private conversation. Garrett heard the door close and Atticus walked into view. "I'm no fool; half of them weren't even paying attention. They only pretend devotion, because they know without us, they would not have any of the luxuries to which they are accustomed." Charlotte appeared beside the Priest who waved her toward one of the lounge chairs as he continued his tirade. "They think we will overlook their crimes against the Builder because they make a large enough donation and attend a sermon once in a while."

_'Hammers.'_ Garrett thought. '_Always in a rage about something_.' Some days it seemed even the act of breathing would be an affront to their Builder. Atticus did not take a seat but continued to stride back and forth as he sermonized. Charlotte sat on the edge of the lounge, watching Atticus with rapt attention.

"I look at this City and all I see is the corruption that lurks between the cracks. The rot that eats away at the Builder's mortar and soon all will crumble to ruin." Garrett could not see Dorleac and he wondered if the Captain was standing near the door or if he had been left outside.

"The streets crawl with thieves and prostitutes, the poor and the filthy masses." Atticus voice dropped to a passionate hiss. "But they do not sicken me as much as the nobility, who hide their wickedness behind a Title and a select wardrobe. Frivolous, feckless sinners all!"

"It's true, I have seen it. All that happens behind closed doors. Things you could never witness; could not possibly imagine." Charlotte wailed in anguish. "I am guilt-ridden because of what I am, bound by my tainted birth-right." Garrett nearly laughed he couldn't believe his ears. At first he had been concerned that Charlotte might actually be a devout follower of the Builder, but now he was sure she was telling Atticus only what he wanted to hear. The High Priest was just another puppet dancing to her strings.

_'Guilt-ridden? Never in a hundred years.'_ Thought Garrett. Charlotte looked so somber this evening, her dress was dark and lacking any embellishment, her hair pulled back in a severe style. She certainly looked like a prudish, rigid believer as she bowed her head in mock penitence. Every expression and word was tinged with melodrama, Garrett couldn't believe Atticus was swallowing this act.

"Your father comes from a pious and noble family, but your mother…" Atticus paused, nearly choking on his own bile it seemed. "The Baffords are heathens! Never forget that her wicked, adulterous blood runs in your veins." Atticus' voice finally softened, but he still sounded preachy as he stopped pacing and sat beside Charlotte. "At least you are trying to make amends. That is why I am here; it is my job to lead others on the path toward righteousness. I know that you struggle with your sins, but you have taken the first steps, you have reached out for my help." Atticus placed a hand possessively over Charlotte's and Garrett bristled at the contact.

_'Could this guy be anymore sanctimonious?' _Garrett didn't know how Charlotte could sit and listen to this, even he was feeling indignant and he wasn't the one being reprimanded. She kept her eyes lowered to the floor and betrayed no sign of impatience.

"I have done so and more, I would do all that you ask of me." Charlotte replied earnestly, glancing shyly at the Priest. "I come tonight with good news. Upon your suggestion, I spoke with the Sherriff today." Garrett frowned, is this what Artemus had been implying?

"My men are now working with the City Watch, they will be the ones to capture Garrett. When they do, _you_ will be the one to deliver justice." She clasped her hands before her chest and looked up at Atticus as though she worshipped him. He could almost see the Priest's ego swelling under her adoring gaze as Atticus smiled triumphantly.

Garrett felt Atticus was bound for disappointment. Charlotte had to be lying; if she was going to give him to the Hammers she already would have done so. Or was this her ultimate plan? Once he was no longer of use to her she would dispose of him by handing him over to the Hammers. She would gamble on the fact that the Hammers would pay no heed to his accusations against her. Especially since she and Atticus seemed to be on such friendly terms.

'_Far too friendly terms.'_ Garrett sneered. _'Old enough to be her father the dirty bastard.'_ Charlotte had said that Atticus was the one who had led her to him. Was Garrett her payment for Atticus' help?

"It is because of Garrett that this Temple was desecrated." Snarled Atticus. "He may have destroyed the Trickster, but is mistaken if he thinks one deed wipes clean all the evil he has wrought. The Builder's judgment shall be harsh for that one."

_'Bunch of ingrates.'_ Garrett scowled. It seemed his relationship with the Hammers was more tenuous than he had believed. Anything he said against Charlotte would be perceived as lies designed to save his own skin. If he wanted to turn the Hammers against her then he would need to act first. Perhaps leave them an anonymous clue as to her true nature. But the timing had to be right; if he acted too soon he could jeopardize his own safety. Things were still too hot right now, especially with the City Watch and the Rois-Dores troops combined to hunt for him. Garrett doubted that Charlotte being executed as a heretic would keep the good Captain from pursuing him.

"Unfortunately I have no such good news for you, my dear. We have used all our resources to seek for your Steward here in the City. Either he is dead or he was removed to the wilds beyond." Atticus patted her shoulder, sliding closer to her and subtly trying to snake his arm around her on the pretext of comforting her. Charlotte stiffened and pulled away from him.

"I refuse to believe he is dead. Until I see a body, I can never accept that as a fact."

"I will send men into the wilds to look for him." Atticus coaxed her back to him. "The Pagans know all that occur beyond the walls of the City, my men will draw the truth from their lying tongues." Garrett was disgusted by the vicious gleam in Atticus' eyes and it seemed to have had the same effect on Charlotte as she turned her face away from him.

"I appreciate the offer Milord, but that isn't necessary. As much as I want to find James, I would not want people to be terrorized and hurt on my account."

"Nonsense! Do not waste your mercy on those heathens. Every man, woman and child that forsakes the Builder deserves nothing less than pain and death."

Charlotte's head remained bowed and Garrett wondered what thoughts were racing through her head at that moment. It seemed to him that she felt conflicted, could she really condone the suffering of innocents in her quest to find James? Garrett did not want to believe it, not after seeing her with the children in the marketplace.

"Forgive me." She said at last, still unable to look at Atticus but Garrett could see the stony expression that did not match her words. "I have only a woman's soft and frail heart. It shames me that I am too meek to carry out the Builder's will." Garrett was angered by the cowardice she was displaying. Certainly she had not openly approved of Atticus' plan to murder Pagans but she hadn't exactly fought him on the issue either. Instead she had chosen the safe option and abandoned the Pagans to death.

"My dear child, you are as the Builder made you. We cannot all expect to be forged of the strongest stuff. Maintain your faith and it will be enough." He patted her knee reassuringly and Garrett fought to hold himself back. He didn't know which of the pair he was more furious at right now. Clearly Dorleac had been left outside; he couldn't imagine Atticus would take such liberties if her bodyguard was nearby. "Besides that was our agreement, I would use all resources at my command to help you find your Steward, in return for the rogue Garrett."

"I've not secured his capture yet." She grasped desperately at this final chance to save lives but it was to no avail. It seemed for once her charms were working too well and had turned against her for it seemed Atticus would stop at nothing to please her.

"It's only a matter of time. With your men after him, he doesn't stand a chance. The divine retribution of the Builder awaits him." Charlotte nodded in assent and rose from her seat. Garrett could see she was on edge and desperate to be gone from this place. As always Atticus seemed oblivious to her more subtle changes in expression but Garrett was beginning to feel that he was finally learning to read her body language.

"Then I must go. Thank you for your time and your enlightening perspectives." Atticus shrugged off her compliments with false modesty and rose to accompany her to the door. He placed his hand in the middle of her back as he steered her toward the exit. They passed from Garrett's view and he got ready to move as soon as the area was clear.

"Remember my door is always open to you my dear child." Were Atticus' parting words as the door closed behind Charlotte. Garrett listened as Atticus moved closer to the bedroom, a spring in his step as he hummed a jaunty tune. He seemed well-pleased with himself. Atticus continued past the bedroom and entered his office. Garrett did not hesitate but made straight for the exit. He retrieved the orb on his way and deactivated it with great relief. Fighting to keep the contents of his stomach he made his way out into the hall. He could see Charlotte and Dorleac a little way ahead of him and he followed at a safe distance. Though it seemed that Charlotte was leading the way Dorleac had a firm grip on her elbow. What was it about this girl that men were always desperate to grab onto her. Garrett's blackjack seemed to materialize in his hand but he knew he would ultimately regret knocking out the Captain.

'_Even if it would feel so good.'_ Garrett secured the blackjack to his belt with a sigh. _'I'll get the chance one day.'_ He promised himself as he made his way to the ground level of the Temple. He stopped to watch them leaving through the Chapel and he realized he would have to return to the safe house. He didn't know if he could bear to see Charlotte again, knowing now what lengths she was willing to go to. He couldn't believe that she had almost fooled him. She'd almost had him convinced that maybe some nobles could be kind and generous.

"But she's just like all the rest."


	16. The Goodsie Wood

Hurrah for updates! The reason this one has taken so long (aside from laziness) is that I have been agonising over Pagan 'slang'. Hopefully I've managed to come up with dialogue that sounds pagany (unfortunately it's been so long since I played Thief that I can't accurately recall any Pagan speech from the game). So I hope I nailed it. I've omitted my usual "Garrett Intro" for this chapter because I feel it would just be repetition of his thoughts and feelings from past chapters. So let's just jump right on in! 

* * *

Garrett turned his eyes from the spires of Highfort as he heard Benji enter the apartment. The boy inclined his head at Garrett when he noticed him by the window, but no other greeting passed between them. Garrett returned his attention to the vista of the City as Benji busied himself with clearing away the remains of Garrett's last meal, laying the table with fresh food.

"If there's nothing else…" Benji began abruptly, already making for the exit, knowing that Garrett never desired his presence.

"Actually Benji." The boy froze in his tracks. Garrett beckoned Benji over to the window and the slender pickpocket hesitantly approached. "I wanted to ask you some questions about our employer." Garrett indicated that Benji should take a seat and the boy obeyed, keeping a wary eye on Garrett.

"You know I don't have any answers for you." Benji replied. Garrett knew this was true to an extent, it was clear Charlotte was keeping information from the boy. But that led Garrett to conclude that Charlotte was also keeping things from him. 

"I know you to be a liar, Benji." Garrett growled and Benji flinched, remembering that Garrett had a sharp dagger and was not afraid to use it. Benji's foot tapped anxiously and Garrett caught his eyes flicking back and forth from Garrett to the clock on the mantelpiece. "In a hurry to be somewhere?" Garrett accused and Benji shook his head, his innocent expression unconvincing. Garrett grabbed him roughly by the tunic. "Where are you meeting? Tell me what you are up to!"

"It's not what you think." Benji squealed desperately in the face of Garrett's fury. "I just wanted to meet my friends at the tavern, before the curfew started." Garrett released his grip and scrutinized Benji in silence.

'_The shifty little rat is partially telling the truth.'_ Garrett concluded as Benji cowered in his seat. "Well if that's all it is," Garrett smirked, "you won't mind if I tag along." Garrett rose in one fluid movement and headed for the door as Benji tried to stammer out a protest.

"You don't need to do that, I'm just meeting my friends." He pleaded. "It's not really your kind of place Garrett."

"If it serves alcohol it will suit me fine." Garrett opened the door and indicated that Benji should lead the way. "After the week I've had, I could use a stiff drink." Benji bowed his head in resignation and led Garrett out onto the street. Dusk was settling over the City, the last rays of the sun setting buildings alight with flickering red and orange. Garrett could feel the warmth of that light permeating beneath the protection of his hood. He caught himself instinctively seeking shadow but realized that would only call attention to himself. With Benji at his side, people would be less likely to think he was up to no good. From the general direction they were heading Garrett assumed their destination was at the Docks.

Which meant it was likely to be very much his type of place, despite Benji's protests. Someplace dark and dirty, where people never looked up at each other and everyone minded their own business. The incident with the City Watch at the Trickster's Tavern would never have happened in the Docks District.

'_Which further begs the question of why Benji and his friends would be there.'_ Garrett mused as they entered Wayside. If the little street gang thought they had had trouble with a spineless bully like Brock, they were headed for a whole new world of danger at the Docks.

Garrett was further surprised as they turned and headed away from the main entertainment nexus at the Docks. The further they went the more dilapidated the buildings became. Greenery sprouted from everywhere, pushing its way up through the cobblestones, strangling lamp posts and tearing away at roof tiles. It was clear that they were moving deeper into reclaimed Pagan territory. Isolated patches, like this one, had been springing up throughout the City of late as the Pagans fought to reclaim the land. This reclamation was made possible only because of the internal power struggle between the Hammers and Mechanists. Since Karras' death the remaining Mechanists had been aimless and disorganized. Many had returned to the Hammer fold, bolstering the faith that had once seemed on the brink of extinction. Garrett had no doubt that sooner or later there would be open warfare in the streets as the renewed might of the Hammers came crashing down on the wood folk.

The City Watch would stand by and let the slaughter go unchecked because ultimately they preferred the rigid doctrines of the Hammers to the chaotic unlawfulness of the Pagans. Garrett felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that he had contributed much to the growing desperation of the Pagan's who had lost first their deity, the Trickster and more recently their cold hearted, yet honorable leader, Viktoria. Most keenly he felt Viktoria's death. Though it was not something he often dwelt upon, he knew, deep down that it was his pride, his selfishness that had caused her death. That she, an entity he had once considered to be purely evil, had sacrificed herself to save the entire City, Pagan and common folk alike, shamed him deeply. As time passed, so did the shame and he learned to shift the blame to others. To Karras for being a lunatic and the Keeper's, for knowing what was coming and choosing to do nothing.

"We're here." Benji broke Garrett's reverie. Garrett looked upward to the sign hanging lopsided above the tavern door. In rough, uneven letters was scrawled a name, The Goodsie Wood and below it was etched the silhouette of a Sycamore. "What do I say… about you?" Benji queried before they entered.

"I'm a friend of your Uncle, a trader in precious metals." Not too far from the truth, thought Garrett. "You offered to show me around while I'm in the City." Garrett figured that would be enough to satisfy the curiosity of Benji's friends.

They entered the tavern and it was exactly as Garrett hoped. A gloomy pit filled with a bunch of seedy people who just wanted to mind their own business. The regular patrons were a very subdued lot, which made it a simple matter to track down Benji's friends, who were making a ruckus as usual. They welcomed Benji to the fold and the boy casually introduced Garrett.

"This is Gert, a friend of my uncle, in town on business. He's a pretty surly bloke so don't expect much conversation, he just wanted to come out for a drink." Lying to his friends, Benji seemed relaxed and completely in his element. Garrett felt vindicated in always suspecting the boy of dishonesty. His friends swallowed the lie and welcomed Garrett without scrutiny. As he sat down at the end of the table a cup of ale was thrust before him.

Garrett ignored the chatter that swamped him on all sides and lost himself in his drink. He kept a careful eye on Benji but the boy seemed to have forgotten his presence entirely. Garrett began to wonder whether Charlotte was going to make an appearance after all. Perhaps he had misjudged Benji's reaction; maybe the boy wasn't trying to conceal a meeting with Charlotte. Had he been nervous because he planned to shirk his duties and meet friends, instead of watching Garrett?

"How long have you been in the City?" Asked the gangly youth on Garrett's right. He was all legs and could have easily towered over Garrett when standing.

"Since morning." Garrett grunted concisely, trying to deflect any further conversation.

"Ahh, so you would have missed all the recent excitement." 'Legs' beamed with delight. "I don't know if Benji told you, but we used to frequent a place called the Trickster's."

"We don't like it there anymore. It's full of tourists." Moaned another boy, whose ears stuck out from his head like handles on a chamber pot. Legs nodded in agreement.

"All kinds of people want to have a drink in the place where Garrett got caught."

"You have heard of _Garrett_, right?" Interjected Pot.

"Yeah." Garrett replied wearily.

"The Sheriff should start a paid tour of Pavelock's cells. He'd make a mint from people also wantin' to see where he escaped from!" Pot, Legs and several others at the table laughed scornfully. Clearly they didn't think much of the Cities finest. At least there was one thing Garrett could agree with them on.

"This place is nice enough." Admitted Legs. "The locals leave us to ourselves." The relief on his face was evident; they'd had enough of being bullied by Brock and his crew.

"But we think Charlie is going native on us." Suggested Pot who pointed toward the bar. Charlie was at the other end, talking to a couple of very feral looking Pagans.

"Leave Charlie alone." Sylvie had been quietly listening to their conversation and now began to berate her friends. "You don't know what it's like for him, having to live here in the City. He feels trapped by all this stone and metal." She looked to Charlie, heartfelt concern written clearly on her young face.

"Aww, Sylvie is sweet on our wild Pagan boy." Legs gave Garrett a knowing wink and Sylvie blushed in response.

"Yeah, ever since he dealt with Brock, eh?" Someone from the other end of the table called out.

"Tha's right. So does he get a discount then?" Asked Pot suggestively and Sylvie's blush deepened; Garrett had never met such a bashful prostitute. He studied Charlie's back as he wondered how the Pagan boy had fallen in with Benji and his crowd. He didn't really seem to belong with this rabble. Benji's friends were second rate pick pockets and whores; Charlie on the other hand was dangerous. His friends didn't seem to realize it, likely they had never met a professional jackablade before. That is what came to mind when Garrett looked at Charlie. How could they honestly believe that a humble farm boy could have the reflexes and knife skills that Charlie had displayed. 

'_They seem a simple bunch_.' Garrett mused.

"Rhodes!" Pot shouted and Charlie, along with the rest of the patrons in the tavern, turned to look at him. "Your round nature boy!"

Charlie gave him a small lop-sided smile and idly waved his hand in assent before turning back to the two woodsmen. Garrett felt a prickling sense of unease on the back of his neck. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but there was definitely something unusual about young Charlie. Or perhaps it was the way the other patrons continued to stare at Garrett and the young troupe with distrust and even open hostility. The scrutiny was more likely to be what had triggered his unrest. Garrett had the feeling their presence was tolerated purely because they were Charlie's friends. Pot stood up to help bring the next round of drinks to the table and Garrett seized the opportunity for a private conversation with Legs.

"How did you meet Charlie?" Garrett asked Legs quietly, so that the rest of the group would not hear. Fortunately Legs seemed equally as cautious to keep his voice lowered and not draw Benji's attention.

"It was Benji who brought him by one night, quite a while back now." Legs squinted as he tried to recall when. "Can't remember exactly, he just kinda blended in immediately. Hardly even notice he's around most of the time."

"You don't know how he met Benji, where he came from?" Garrett couldn't believe how oblivious these kids were.

"We all just assumed he was a refugee, you know, lot's of people coming in from the wilds with the war going on. As for him and Benji," Legs lowered his voice even further and leaned toward Garrett, "they're real tight. Something about how Charlie did something for Benji, something that meant a real lot. Don't know the specifics though, Benji doesn't talk about it. And Charlie," Legs shrugged, "he don't talk much at all."

"He talks enough to those two men." Garrett nodded at the Pagans who were still deep in conversation with Charlie. From this distance it was impossible to make out what was said and difficult to even gauge the expressions on their faces.

'_Looks like a heated discussion.'_ Thought Garrett. _'But whatever they're talking about, they're deferring to Charlie's wishes.' _

"Yeah, who knows." Said Legs, clearly losing interest in the conversation. "Probably just relatives or something." Pot returned with the new round, paid for by Charlie and Garrett accepted the proffered drink. Garrett had an itch in the back of his mind, some essence of understanding in his sub-conscious that was trying to break out. He began to wonder if Charlie was really what he seemed. Pagans lived in a world of illusion and trickery. Maybe he wasn't even a dangerous knifeman masquerading as a dirty, scruffy looking farm boy. Maybe he was actually some horrible, ancient Pagan spirit who had come to the City to help his brethren in the fight against the Hammers. The thought chilled Garrett to the core. Hammers and Pagans beating each other about was one thing, it almost seemed like the natural course. But when these deities and spirits became involved it took the fight to an all new level. Garrett had stood on the brink of apocalypse twice already; he didn't relish the idea of going through any of that again.

Once again Garrett found it strange that Benji was involved with someone like Charlie. Unassuming, ordinary Benji certainly collected some interesting acquaintances. Charlie finished his conversation with the two Pagans and they immediately left the tavern. Their faces were set with grim intent and Garrett wondered what they could be up to. Charlie moved toward Benji's group but swept past the table, rather than taking a seat. He brushed Benji's shoulder on the way and Benji rose immediately to follow after Charlie. Sylvie watched them jealously and Garrett wondered just how intimate the relationship between Charlie and Benji was. Charlie's sharp gaze fell upon Garrett as he went by, noticing the new addition for the first time. Beneath the mop of curly hair, Charlie's eyes twinkled mischievously. Benji followed him to a secluded corner and Garrett decided he would also excuse himself from the table.

Benji's friends didn't even notice Garrett leave, one moment he was there, the next he had disappeared. Legs scanned the tavern briefly then shrugged and turned his attention back to his friends.

Garrett hugged the wall, slowly inching his way toward the darkness that concealed Benji and Charlie. Though the tavern was more subdued than most, Garrett still had to strain to try and make out their whispered conversation as he drew nearer.

"…attack you regardless. It's too late to give them Garrett, that won't placate the Hammers." Garrett's ears perked up at the mention of his name. Charlotte had never mentioned that the pagan boy was also in her employ. 

'_Either it's one more thing she's keeping from me, or little Benji is planning to betray her.' _Garret smirked, there had to be a way to turn this situation to his advantage.

"Never our intents to give up the thief, our own punishings in store for him." Charlie whispered as Garrett's eyes peered into the inky darkness. He could make out their silhouettes at this distance but not much else. "Warnings be given, trappers be laid. Hammers seeks blood, bloods they be finding. Their bloods, their bones hammered!"

"Finally." Benji seemed exasperated. "How long I have waited for this revenge. I want to be there. I want to see it." Garrett had never heard Benji speak so viciously.

"Not for eyes to see, Benji. Hates build on hates, tears you to pieces. No comfort be's revenge." Charlie's voice was filled with sorrow, as though he spoke from personal experience.

"They killed my father; I want to see them suffer. They will never endure the pain, the anguish that he did." Benji's voice began to rise in volume and Charlie hurriedly silenced him.

"Father not wanting this world for Benji. Benji lead goodsie life, not to be's suffering and destroy himself with angers." Charlie put an arm around Benji, trying to soothe the rage in the young man. "We avoids fighting, not want be's risking lives. Only if Hammer's be's venturing too far, we trapsie them." Charlie closed his fist emphatically but Benji shrugged free of the smaller boy.

"So you're not even going to fight them, you're going to hide. Like you always hide. That hasn't worked before, you know that. They will find your people and you know what will happen then!" Benji was once again becoming animated.

"Shhhh." Charlie placated him. "Worries not Benji, Hammer's not find craftsie people. Hammer's heads full of lead, mind's of stonesie." Charlie tapped at his skull and laughed softly. "To our friends, return now Benji. Be's mindful only of the sneaksie thief and leave dark imaginings to me." Charlie rubbed Benji's shoulder and the young thief nodded in assent.

"He keeps asking questions, I tell him I don't know anything, but I don't think he believes me. He…" Benji's voice quavered and the boy turned his face away from Charlie in shame.

"This task of 'portance be's, Benji does well. Soon be's endings." Charlie said ominously and Benji nodded. As soon as Benji started toward his friends Charlie slipped away into the shadows. Garrett was hot on his heels, not waiting to see how Benji would react when he realized he was gone.

'_I think I need to have a chat with young Charlie.' _Garrett leaned casually against the wall of the tavern, watching Charlie scurry down the uneven street. They were the only two in evidence and Garrett didn't want the boy to know he followed. When there was ample distance between them Garrett started after him, ready to dive into the shadows should the pagan turn suddenly.

Through the twisting streets Garrett patiently followed his quarry, trying to discern Charlie's ultimate destination. He had expected the boy to head deeper into Pagan territory but instead he led him toward South Quarter. Garrett scowled as he began to pass by all too familiar shop fronts. Twenty minutes of chasing after Charlie and he was beginning to retrace their steps. Garrett was sure that the boy had not looked back once, could not know that Garrett was hot on his heels. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being toyed with and led around in circles. Garrett began to close the distance between them; the time for subtlety was over.

Charlie still gave no indication that he knew Garrett was behind as the thief lengthened his strides, bearing down on the slight pagan. His boots clattered on the cobblestones in haste, the boy was only moments ahead. Charlie stepped sideways around the corner of a building and Garrett ran the last few feet. He rounded the corner and prepared to catch hold of the boy. His hands swiped at empty air and Garrett stared down the alley in disbelief. He scurried down the passage, his feet splattering through the refuse and garbage that covered the ground. Garrett squinted as he peered at the far end of the laneway; there was no way Charlie could have made it out so quickly.

'_No-one can run that fast.'_ Garrett spun around, looking high and low for bolt holes or sewer entrances. His frustration mounted, Charlie seemed to have disappeared into thin air. If he had been out in the wilds he wouldn't have been so surprised. In their element even Pagan's surpassed him in terms of stealth, the land granting them cover and ancient illusory magic. In the confines of the City though he hadn't expected they could duplicate such feats.

'_Only Keepers have such power here.'_ He started to back out of the alley, nagging doubt creeping into his bones. _'Fool Garrett, you're lucky this wasn't a trap.' _He chided himself for running blindly after his foe.

"Seems losters your prey, _Cyclops_." Garrett spun around at Charlie's mocking words. The pagan boy was lounging on a stack of crates grinning at Garrett like a jackal. He approached him slowly; wary now of Charlie's disappearing act he tried to discern where the boy had been hiding so that he could cut off any further escape attempts. Charlie rose to his feet and jumped from the crates, nimbly landing in front of Garrett.

"_You_ stole my coin purse!" Garrett accused as realization struck him. That night in the Trickster's Tavern, it was Charlie that had knocked over Garrett, who had ample opportunity to slip his hand inside Garrett's shirt and lift his bulging coin purse. _'That means that you are one of her creatures after all.'_ Garrett mused. Charlie snickered gleefully, as though privy to some personal joke that was beyond Garrett. 

'_You won't be laughing for long.'_ Garrett thought as he closed in on the boy who continued to show no fear. Rather than throttling the lad Garrett paused, studying him, trying to figure out what made him so confident. _'I know he hides a dagger somewhere.' _Not that Garrett considered one of Charlotte's minions would try to harm him, but who was to say the pagan didn't have an agenda of his own. Charlie bore this scrutiny with good humor, his mouth turning up into a familiar, teasing smile as he waited expectantly.

"Ha... I see." Garrett finally got the joke. "What are you playing at?"

"I told you Garrett, misdirection and suggestion, this is what I do." Charlotte sounded well pleased with herself. "Making others believe what I want them to, it's a powerful tool. To be honest though, I'm surprised it took you so long to recognize me. I am a little disappointed." She teased archly.

"I can hardly see you at all under all that dirt." Garrett replied and Charlotte wiped at her face, suddenly embarrassed under his gaze. "Why this deception though?"

"You think I want Benji to know who I really am. Can you imagine how disastrous that could be?" She shook her head as though the answer ought to be obvious. "I prefer to conduct my less savory business under an alias."

"What business would that be? Figuring out how best to dispose of me?" He accused.

"Garrett…" She simpered. "I wouldn't betray you, why can't you believe that?" Garrett grunted skeptically and she frowned at the insult to her integrity. "Haven't I trusted you with my true identity? Surely that counts for something."

"Your identity?" He scoffed. "Which I discovered quite by accident. How different would things be had I not? Would you be lying to me as you lie to Benji?" Charlotte cast her head down though it seemed to Garrett she was less offended by his words and more upset that he'd seen past her deceitful airs. "For all I know, everything you tell me is a lie." He ground out through his teeth. Charlotte was caught off guard by his accusations and he could see her mind whirling as she sought to defend herself. He scowled as he waited for her to speak, he couldn't wait to see what feeble excuses she would try to throw at him. He had already decided that it didn't matter what she said to him anymore.

'_It's all lies and manipulation. She doesn't care for anyone or anything except her own aims.'_ He thought back to her meeting with Atticus and his heart grew even colder. Charlotte half turned away from him, unable to bear his scrutiny any longer.

"I know you hate me Garrett…" Her voice faltered as she tried to speak. "You have every right to. I've been such a foolish…" Charlotte's body was wracked by a great sob and she covered her face with her hands. "Such a stupid girl!" Garrett was taken aback by her muffled confession; he hadn't expected her to become so emotional. This wasn't like her at all and he began to feel uncomfortable as he watched her shaking and whimpering into her palms.

"Uhh…" He tried to speak but words eluded him. Charlotte, who seemed always in control, always plotting, was suddenly nothing but a vulnerable young woman. He didn't really know how to react to this different side of her. Suddenly she threw herself at him, her delicate hands clutching at his tunic. She was like a trembling bird and he didn't know what else to do but wrap his arms around her, awkwardly stroking her back.

"I jumped in over my head Garrett, I thought I had everything planned, that everyone would act according to my wishes." She shook her head, silently berating herself. "I made a deal with the devil; I let my quest for truth… no! My quest for _vengeance_, blind my judgment. Before I knew it, things were spiraling out of control. I have unwittingly unleashed the Hammers. What else could I do but warn the Pagan's about Atticus' plans? They need to be prepared."

"To fight? You're initiating a war and all for James. Is it really worth it?" Despite her confessions of stupidity Garrett still couldn't let her off so easily. She looked up at him, her eyes burning indignantly.

"They've been killing each other for centuries; they hardly need my help to do it." Charlotte raged in defense of her actions but Garrett scoffed at her feeble justification. The fury drained from Charlotte's eyes as quickly as it had appeared. What replaced it was unending sadness and guilt. "It may not have been my intention to shed blood, but there will be blood on my hands nonetheless." She closed her eyes, her expression pained as she whispered. "No-one is to blame but me." She collapsed against his shoulder.

"I thought I was being so clever, I had worked so hard to ingratiate myself to both the Hammers and the Pagans. Knowing where they're strengths lay, I would use the Hammers as my eyes and ears in the City, and the Pagan's for the untamed wilds beyond our borders. I didn't know this would happen; I didn't realize how deeply this hatred ran in the hearts of these people. I wanted to help them break free from the secret rule of the Keeper's, but I realize now there are some truth's that they don't want to see." She looked up at Garrett and he felt that she wanted to be assured that everything would be alright. "All I can think about is the innocent people who always get caught in the middle."

Garrett felt warmth spreading throughout his body. He realized it was more relief than desire. He was happy to know she did care about others. That she felt remorse for the deaths she would cause. She looked so vulnerable, tears gathering in her eyes, threatening to spill down her face. He didn't know what he would do if she actually cried, he couldn't bear the thought of it.

And though his insides twisted to see her in such anguish his spirits also soared because she was opening up to him in this way. It was clear she needed protection and guidance and he so desperately wanted to give her both. More than anything he wanted Charlotte to need him, to depend upon him. In the end all he could do was capture her mouth with his own for one sweet, fleeting kiss. For a moment it seemed she savored it as much as he, but then he felt her body tense and she struggled out of his grasp. The half-hearted slap she planted on his cheek came as no surprise but she looked away from him, her cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry." She muttered; her brows drawing together as she struggled to regain her composure.

"Just what I needed to clear my head, _Milady_." He drawled. 

"Garret please," She pleaded, "I don't need another… complication." She sighed and Garrett's eyes narrowed as he came to his senses.

'_Another complication? So I'm just like Dorleac and Atticus.'_ He mentally kicked himself, how easily he had fallen under her spell. A few tears and sweet words and he was just another one of her puppets. He increased the distance between them and caught the surreptitious glance that Charlotte cast toward him. That one small look told him all he needed to know. 

"Goodnight Charlotte." He growled, turning on his heel and striding away, leaving her wordlessly gaping behind him.


End file.
